


R and M Kinktober (late edition)

by cousinrayray



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, BDSM, Biting, Blood, Blowjobs, Bondage, Bukkake, C137cest, Choking, Creampie, Double Penetration, Drugging, Edgeplay, FaceFucking, Humiliation, Jealousy, Leather, M/M, Masturbation, Medical Kink, More tags to be added, Name-Calling, Pet Play, Public Sex, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Somnophilia, Sounding, Spanking, Toys, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, Waxplay, a touch of Daddykink, brief threesome, but it's Rick-directed, mild S/M, mindless self indulgence - Freeform, multiple orgasm, portal sex, rapeplay, very very dubious consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray
Summary: Right what it says on the tin. I'm the kind of crazy person that decides to start a kinktober challenge 2/3 of the way through the month.Oneshots and mindless smut ahead.





	1. Day 1: Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously this is going to be finished late, if at all. Edit: I'm gonna finish this thing if kills me, lol. Also I'm a cheater, and will use multiple prompts in one work. 
> 
> If you're here for the Jerry/Rick, it's ch 4. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first crack echoed through Morty's silent, dark bedroom. 

There was a delayed gasp, more from utter shock than any pain, as Morty stared unseeingly at his bedroom wall.

“R-Rick, what the, what the shit, stop!” he garbled out, cursing his voice for always being so reedy and weak. 

“No can do, M-ourgh-rty. You, you did this to yor- yorsh- you, this is your fault for being a brat.” Rick slurred. Morty could feel flecks of spittle fall on his back as Rick belched. 

He had been a brat today. He didn't know why, just that sometimes it felt right to vent his frustrations with Rick by being deliberately difficult. Rick was an asshole, he deserved it. It usually got him an eyeroll, some insults, very occasionally a begrudging trip to somewhere fun. 

It had never gotten him this. And even Morty wasn't dumb enough to think it was normal to stumble in drunk off your ass at 2 am into your grandson's room, tug him over your lap and pull down his pants to “dis- disp-eugh-ence some discipline”. 

He didn't know what this was, exactly. 

But his thoughts were interrupted by another harsh smack. This time his gasp was mostly from pain. It had stung, the flesh already irritated from the first blow.

One, two, three and four blows came in quick succession, and Morty was red-faced and whimpering after they were through. He could feel his ass heating up, the stinging spreading in a hot wave across his cheek. 

“R-Rick… s-s-stop,” he tried again, his voice shaking from pain and embarrassment. 

“This- euuuugh- this hurts me more, more than it hurts you, Morty,” Rick muttered. 

But Morty knew him well enough to hear a bit of smugness in his tone, knew if he dared look up he'd see a smirk. 

He tensed in anticipation when Rick's hand landed again. But this time it just skated lightly over his hot, sensitive skin, and it made Morty squirm in alarmed confusion. 

Before he could ask himself, much less Rick, what exactly that was, Rick began spanking him again, grunting occasionally with his blows. 

It hurt, it was starting to really hurt, and Morty could feel tears threatening to spill over. His ass felt like it was on fire, and when was this going to end?

Then Rick suddenly laid his hand gently over his abused flesh again, and Morty gasped for an entirely different reason- he could, quite clearly, feel his dick pulse from the pained tingle the touch sent through him. 

Oh fuck. 

He whimpered as Rick began hitting him again, the blows alternating in tempo and force, and the uncertainty of each sending another small, horrible jolt to his dick. 

Oh God, this was going nowhere good. He really hoped Rick stopped soon, this was absolutely fucked, and what would Rick do if he found out? 

And then, as another smack made him gasp and fidget, and try not to press inwards against Rick's lap, he felt it. He swore he felt himself press against something hard and stiff. 

His body went rigid with shock, a noise dying in his throat. Holy shit…?

Rick, drunk as he was, seemed to know immediately something had changed. His hand slowed its rapid descent, coming to simply rest on Morty's bare ass for a tense few seconds. 

Morty held his breath. It was there, he knew he could feel it, it was there. 

Then Rick pushed him off none-too-gently, almost sending him tumbling to the floor, and stood unsteadily. 

“Don't, don't be a brat, M-Morty,” he mumbled grumpily. 

But his face was red, and he wouldn't meet his eye, and Morty stared, uncertain and suspicious, as he turned away, brought out his flask and took a long luxuriating swig. Then he belched and shuffled out of the room, mumbling incoherently to himself. 

Rick shut the door with a soft slam. 

Morty stood alone in his dark bedroom, flushed and shaky with an ass on fire and a hard dick. 

He crawled back into bed, lying down with a wince and a shiver as his abused bottom hit the mattress. He blew out a breath and took himself in hand. He felt exhausted and keyed up at the same time, and he wanted to get this over with. 

It did not surprise him in the slightest, when his thought as he came was of those delirious few seconds of feeling Rick underneath him. 

He knew he should be alarmed about all this, and he was. But right now he was very tired and oddly satisfied-feeling, and he fell asleep quickly, without effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta say guys, this one almost squicked me out a bit. Rough start


	2. Day 2, 9, 11: Dirty Talk, Asphyxiation, S/M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol such a cheater

It was harder than Rick thought it would be to get the words out. Which was stupid, he told himself, but that didn't stop him from fidgeting as he made himself just do it. 

“Hey, Morty, you, uh, you wanna try something, uh…” he interrupted their semi-dressed kissing on his bed to say, then faltered. He made himself start again, more confident and direct. 

“Wanna rough me up a bit? C-Call me names and shit?” he tried to say casually, nonchalantly, knowing immediately that he had failed. A faint blush started to tinge his cheeks and he scowled inwardly. 

Morty’s eyes went wide, his hands frozen on Rick's arms, and he stammered, “O-okay, um, s-sure? Only, I'm, I'm not sure what you mean…?”

“Forget it, Morty,” Rick said curtly, face fully aflame. Fuck this. 

He leaned in again to push his tongue into Morty’s mouth and lead them back down more familiar roads. 

But then he felt a sharp pain on his tongue as Morty bit him, and when he reared back in reflex he felt a hand reach up and yank on the hairs of the back of his head, jerking harshly. The shock and the pain and the sudden need to restrain his urge to hurt back, to defend, left Rick breathing hard, brain swirling. 

“Fuck, Morty, you f -fucker, cocky shit,” he heard himself growl dangerously. 

“Y-you asked for it, slut,” Morty said softly, his voice wavering near Rick's neck, and it should have been absurd, it was absurd, and Rick could feel himself want to laugh. But he could taste iron in his mouth, and it made interest pool into his groin, a quiet cold shiver go down Rick's spine. This could work quite well. 

He let his shoulders go lax, his head relaxing into Morty's grip. His eyes drifted down to his grandson's and he found them glittering in the boy's flushed face, nervous and something more, too, and another shiver traveled down him.

Morty put a hand on Rick’s chest and pushed them both backwards. As they fell he straddled Rick and his hand slid up to Rick’s throat. 

Rick froze when he felt those hot, small fingers slide around his neck, Morty's thumb pressing firmly into the dead center of his trachea. His eyes bulged in shock and he couldn't help the shallow gasp that escaped him as a bright spark of arousal flared down into his cock. 

Morty stopped moving and said, “Are you- i-is this ok? I didn't mean-.” He shook his head, suddenly an awkward, nervous teen again. 

But Rick noticed he didn't remove his hand from his throat. In fact he could feel the pressure increasing imperceptibly even as Morty spoke, and that knowledge made him groan and say, “Yes, Morty, you're- you’re- it's great.” 

Who would have thought? Hidden depths, he mused distractedly. 

The little fucker’s eyes narrowed a bit, and he pressed down harder on Rick's airway. His other hand crept down to Rick’s nipple and gave it a mean pinch. 

Rick jerked and grunted, his eyes unfocusing a bit in his head. The edge of Morty's backside was just barely brushing against his still-underwear-clothed cock, and as his lungs strained to take in air he felt it jerk and throb, seeking greater friction.

He groaned, felt it vibrate into Morty's hand, and Morty hissed, “L-Look at you. What a f-filthy, pathetic whore, just- just begging to get choked out and u-used.” It was stuttering and silly but it worked for Rick, and he moaned louder, clenching the bed. He wouldn't touch himself, that would be losing the game. 

“Fuck, Morty, d-do it, use me up,” he choked out. If he wasn't half-starved of oxygen and drowning in lust he would have been embarrassed beyond belief that he was so affected from such a pathetic attempt. 

Morty ground backwards on his cock, letting out a small shuddery gasp of his own, while both his hands wrapped around Rick's throat and began squeezing mercilessly, pulsing his grip around his grandfather's neck. 

Rick gagged, dark blossoms spreading over his vision while Morty's ass rubbed insistently against his throbbing, leaking dick. He could feel delicious numbness spreading through his limbs, every ounce of perception narrowing down to his pleading lungs and cock. Just a bit more stimulation, please, yes. 

Just when he realized it might have been an error to neglect safewords for this endeavor, feeling himself begin to fade into soft black, Morty's hands slackened and he sucked in a huge breath, his vision canting wildly to the side as he coughed. 

His cock was screaming even more urgently at him now that his lungs were out of danger, and he panted hoarsely, feeling his lower half thrust mindlessly against Morty's cheeks, begging for release. 

“F-fuck, Morty, I- I…” he croaked, half-swooning, feeling half mad. He needed release, he needed to lose himself in that crushing dark and he needed it so badly he was gearing himself up to beg for it. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” Morty crooned softly at him. Rick could barely stand to look at him, his grandson looked like a stranger, leaning over him with a sideways grin and shiny eyes, and it was overwhelmingly hot. 

“I know w-what you need, a d-dirty little pervert like you. I know j-just what you d-deserve.”

As he finished speaking he moved backwards so Rick's still-clothed cock slipped between his legs to rest in front of him, Rick groaning helplessly at the pressure and the cold air he felt ghosting over him as his underwear was pulled roughly down. 

Then Morty leaned forward and placed his hand back on Rick's throat, squeezing with a threatening, slow increase of pressure while his hand reached down and grabbed Rick's cock, giving it a slow, firm tug. 

Rick wheezed and spasmed, relishing the panicked heat that weighed down his limbs, flooded through his core. Jesus God just a little more, please just a little more, he thought desperately as Morty touched him in arrhythmic, deliberately uneven strokes. His throat and lungs were working desperately, trying to pant out his arousal but unable to, his hips were jerking out of his control into Morty's hand. 

As Morty tightened his grip on his neck and his cock Rick could feel his world narrowing back down to that one crucial, all-consuming point of need and if his air wasn't completely cut off he would have been begging, pride forgotten. 

As it was he could only scrabble at the bed like an animal, his vision quickly becoming sightless as he used up all his oxygen in his pointless movements. He ground his teeth, about to fly apart. 

Then Morty gave him several quick, hard strokes, slipped his hand up around the head of his dick and slid his fingernail into the tender slit as he leaned into Rick's ear and murmured, “Do it,” his thumb pressing right into his Adam's apple. 

With a hacking, tearing sound somewhere between a gag, sob, and moan Rick exploded in his grandson's hand, still pinned down by the hand on his neck. He writhed like a bug, feeling everything in him empty out until he was left breathless, boneless, mindless. 

Morty eased back off his throat, withdrawing the hand on his dick while Rick drew in breath after ragged breath. 

Finally he propped himself up and looked blearily at the kid. Morty had magically morphed back into his normal, stuttering young self during the moments Rick pulled himself back together, and looked at him with a shy smile, his face flushed and happy. 

“So… you- you really like being choked, huh?” he mumbled with an embarrassed self-satisfaction. 

Rick would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn't still spinning a bit. He did generally enjoy it, but that seemed a slightly inadequate excuse for whatever had just happened to him. So he just smirked and rasped, “Yeah, and you- you really like choking people, huh?” with a mocking eyebrow, his eyes flicking toward the tent evident through Morty's jeans. 

Morty shrugged, still smiling, and said, “No, just, just you,” rising up off Rick's legs to sit on the bed beside him. 

Rick grinned and turned around to begin unfastening the boy's pants, his mouth already watering at the thought of shoving him down his abused throat.

He ruminated bemusedly that Morty had really hit the nail on the head, with that.


	3. Day 3: Public

When Morty first raised the idea, Rick misunderstood.

“In public, huh? You're, you're a kinky little shit, you know that, Morty?” he said with a leering smirk, reaching over to pinch the boy's ass. Morty batted his arm away as he continued,

“Where you thinkin’, movie theater, park, b-balcony somewhere? Actually, we could go to this rad planet, Morty, where the people- they're, they go crazy to see people fuck. They're am-amorphous gaseous beings, so, so it's like a religious experience for them to watch meat-bodies do it.”

“Well, that’s, that is pretty cool, bu-”

“Trust me, Morty, it's a- a helluva thing, to have 500 million beings stare at you, at- at your sweaty, thrusting nutsack in r-religious rapture.”

Morty laughed, helpless. “Yeah, and- and maybe I'd like to do that t-too, one day, but I… I h-had a more, um, specific… audience in mind,” he said haltingly, flushing. 

Rick's brow lifted and he waited, hand raised expectantly as he took a swig. “Well?” he belched, when Morty stayed silent. 

“I'm, I was kinda thinking… the family?” he finished, cringing slightly. 

Rick's eyebrows shot into his hair, then furrowed down as he stared hard at Morty, then shot back up again. 

He took another gulp and coughed, “Shit, Morty, you, you really caught me flat-footed there. You serious?”

Morty nodded, shamefaced. 

“Damn, kid. How extreme of a, of a thing we talkin’ here?” 

Morty’s brows furrowed in confusion, and Rick rolled his eyes. “Do you want to get caught, or no?” 

“N-No!,” Morty yelped, then paused, “Wait... t-that's an option?” 

“Yeah, i-in some ways an easier one,” Rick said, shrugging.

Morty shook his head, eyes wide, “I don't- I don't think I'm ready f-for something like that,” he said carefully. 

Rick just shrugged again. “Sure, w-whatever. Any particular scenario in mind?” 

Now it was Morty's turn to shrug, “Not, not really? I just, uh, hoped you'd sorta figure it out,” he said, bashful. 

“Typical,” Rick muttered, but then he smirked. “Don't worry, kiddo, I'll, I'll think of something.”

 

‘Something’ ended up taking longer than Morty expected. But then Beth won an award for ‘Most Promising Advances in Equine Osteopathy’, a whole affair with a fancy dinner in a rented hall with tuxedos and guests and speeches, and which, along with a horse-shaped statuette, came with an all-paid vacation for the whole family to a scenic mountain cabin located in wild-horse-habitat Wyoming. 

When they arrived and walked through the house, they eventually made their way to the sprawling back deck over-looking the range, equipped with a large, decadent hot tub. 

“Oooh!” Jerry said, scampering towards it in delight. He pressed a button and the jets turned on with a roar, foaming up the surface of the water and making him flinch back in reflex. He recovered with a nervous laugh and a “Look, honey! Looks fun right?” trying to sound suave. 

Rick coughed, “Yeah those, those babies look pretty awesome. Should be- should be fun for the whole family.” 

As he said it he didn't look at Morty, but something in the corner of his jaw twitched and Morty knew with sudden, almost frightened certainty that this whole giant, long-winded affair had been patiently, perfectly assembled to lead to this little arrangement; a hot tub with ample obscuring jets and ample size for the whole family. 

He sucked in a breath with a whoop, then coughed furiously as everyone turned to look at him, Rick glaring daggers. Morty just laughed weakly, and said, “P-pollen.”

 

Morty waited on edge for four hours, then Jerry suggested a ‘soak in the tub’ to Beth, which Rick not-so-subtly encouraged to be an affair for everyone, to Beth's bemused acquiescence. 

So they all found themselves lounging in the hot tub, jets bubbling eagerly. Morty tried to listen to the conversation going on around him but there was absolutely no point, he was beyond on edge. 

The first touch of Rick’s hand on his thigh made him jump despite all his mental preparation. He refused to let himself glance at Rick, refused to hold his breath as the hand crept under his swimming trunks to his genitals and began fondling them, fingers petting downwards, then lightly curling around the quickly perking-up head. 

He let his head rest back against the edge of the tub with a sigh, gearing himself up to endure this as non-suspiciously as possible. He could do this. 

The fingers tugged at his balls and stroked his cock, teasing him into ever-higher arousal. Morty rolled his shoulders anxiously, trying to release some of his tension, and caught Rick staring at him out of the corner of his eye as he did so. 

The hand sped up and Morty squirmed slightly, biting his lip for an instant before catching himself and quitting. Fuck, he was already so horny. This really was going to be difficult. He realized with panic that the sudden silence was because his mom had said something to him and had been waiting for a response too long. 

“Sorry, w-what was that?” his voice quavered uncertainly. He cleared his throat. 

“Jeez, Morty, ADD, much?” Summer scoffed. 

Beth rolled her eyes and repeated, “I asked how your science fair project was going. You know, with the plants?” she prompted at his blank look. 

All throughout this Rick's hand had kept stroking, though he paused warningly at Morty's silence. 

“Y-yeah they're, they're good. They're g-growing,” Rick's thumb rubbing teasingly on the head of his dick at his words, “growing pretty well, uh, all’s, all’s good with them,” Morty finished shakily. Beth's eyebrow rose but she nodded, took a sip of her wine and turned back to Jerry. 

The hand around his cock pulsed in approval, then went back to stroking him off. Morty squirmed again. 

It felt good, he was already dying to come, and he knew the only reason he hadn't been called out on his flushed face was that everyone’s face was red from the heat, but it was honestly starting to chafe a bit, and he wasn't sure if this was going to work. 

He tried to figure out how to convey this dilemma to Rick, and finally he let his arm slide casually into the water and come to rest on Rick's forearm. It stopped immediately. Looking ahead at nothing, he made the slightest hint of a grimace pass over his face. 

There was a pause, then Rick's hand gave two quick pats against the inside of his thigh and slid lower. His fingers came to curl up under Morty’s balls, nudging at him, and Morty shifted his angle slightly to allow him access, remembering after a second to relax his widened eyes. 

He couldn't help the gasp that he turned hastily into a cough as Rick's finger wriggled inside. Luckily no one seemed to care, and the finger plunged deeper, searching and crooking. Morty finally risked a glance to Rick and saw him gazing off distantly, his brows furrowed in light concentration. 

Then the finger found its target and pressed eagerly. Morty jerked, then slapped his arm as eyes turned to him and said “Mos-mosquitoes,” genuinely proud at how there was only the slightest tremble in his voice. 

Rick rubbed the spot in merciless circles, his hand contorting to somehow press simultaneously on the sensitive area at the bottom of his ballsack. Morty huffed a short breath through his nose, his toes searching for purchase against the smooth tub floor. He could feel his orgasm pulling him towards it, creeping up on him inexorably. He just wasn't sure if he was going to make it without wrecking things. 

He bit the inside of his cheeks, dying to clench his hands, to thrust, to let himself moan out the tension that was building inside him as Rick's hand tuned him up like an instrument. 

Then, amazed at his own stupidity, Morty moved his hand under the water to grab at his cock, letting out a perhaps too-avid, but hopefully passable sigh of relief as he began giving it tiny, surreptitious tugs. 

His breathing was too harsh, too regulated, and his thighs were jerking and he was never going to make it, he was gonna get caught and his stupid kink was gonna ruin all their lives, but his release was almost within reach, he could feel the sparks igniting in his gut, and come hell or high water he was just… about to… co-

Rick's other arm spread lazily as he yawned exaggeratedly, and glanced against Beth’s wireless speaker balanced near the edge of the tub, knocking it into the water with a splash. 

Morty came with a ragged gasp in the midst of the fuss and loud complaints from Jerry and louder non-apologies from Rick, his chest heaving and his vision tilting dangerously. 

Rick plucked him back up with a babbled insult about little babies being in hot water too long, and practically hauled him out of the tub. He threw a towel at the quivering kid, and said with a falsely casual tone that he was going out to get some booze and snacks, if Morty wanted to tag along. 

Morty was not at all surprised when Rick pulled him into a portal the second they had gone around a corner, lips locked hungrily on his before they even made it through.


	4. Day 4, 5, 18, 24: Bukkake, Humiliation, Daddy, Voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta say, I'm kinda proud of this one. Might tune it up to stand alone one day. Really need to start reigning in these word counts, though.

He knew as soon as he showed the kid this ridiculous fucking haircut the little shit was gonna bust out laughing. Rick didn't need to be the smartest man alive to know that that was probably the point of most of this, this… insanity.

Sure enough, as Rick turned around with a wry smirk, Morty’s eyes went wide and a giggle nervously escaped him. 

“Oh, wow, that- that's perfect, Rick, you, you really look just like him.”

Rick rolled his eyes in irritation, “No fucking duh, Morty, we’re the same goddamn person.”

Morty frowned at him and sniffed, “You should probably lose the- the attitude though. B-breaks character.” 

Rick turned back to the mirror, growling about breaking all sorts of things. He made a few minor adjustments to skin blemishes, modified his teeth, then stopped and looked. A perfect copy of Rick J19ζ7, aka Doofus Rick, looked back at him. 

The things he fucking did for Morty.

To be honest, when Morty first told him what he wanted the only thing that kept Rick from shooting him down hard was his ingrained need to never lose the game of oneupmanship he had played his whole life. That and they were both fairly stoned at the time, and he hadn't been sure if Morty was serious.

It made him ponder somewhat uncomfortably that if only a year of them fooling around had fertilized the ground for an idea like this, then what the hell was next? Maybe he really should try to ease off, before the kid turned into an absolute psycho. 

Eh. He knew he wouldn't. Still, though. 

What Morty wanted, was for Rick to get fucked. By Jerry. While posing as Doofus Rick. 

It sounded like absolute madness. And it was. Morty had little coherent justifications to offer, just something babbled about power and vulnerability before he clammed shut his useless stuttering jaw and looked at Rick with an embarrassed, stubborn gaze. 

But Rick would never, ever, be the one who cried uncle. And it probably wouldn't be that hard to pull off. They both knew Jerry had something of an on again, off again affair with the soft-headed dingus. 

God, it was a repulsive idea, though. It made Rick want to throw things and grind his teeth. It really got to him, on some dumb visceral level. 

And that, he figured, was precisely why Morty had thought of it. 

 

He plastered a big goofy grin on his face as the door to Jerry’s shitty apartment opened. 

“Oh my god, Ricky?” Jerry exclaimed in confused excitement. Rick felt his eye twitch. “W-What are you doing here? Come on, come in!”

“What a lovely surprise,” he said aimlessly, as he ushered Rick in through the door and shut it behind them. He hurried in front of Rick and gestured, “Wanna sit on the couch? I have a rug now, see? I, I think it really ties things together, don't you?” he said, gesturing to a moth-eaten, brown and orange striped monstrosity with vague stains. 

“Yeah, J-Jerry, I- I think it's really nice. It's, it's just like you, Jerry. It- it's a great rug,” Rick said in an earnest, childish voice, trying his best to keep his face straight. 

Jerry continued chattering nonsense as they sat on the couch. Ugh, Rick wasn't going to make it if they had to talk all night. Then Jerry seemed to notice something was off, and with a lowered brow said, “Everything ok, Ricky? You've been, been pretty quiet tonight.”

Well, here was an opportunity to get the ball rolling. Rick steeled himself and shoved down his discomfort and said, “Y-yeah, Jerry. I, I guess I’m just- just kinda sad. Or- or, or maybe kinda… lonely?”

He swore he could hear Morty giggle briefly through the microcommunicator inside Rick's ear. Fucking little bitch. 

Rick moved over closer to Jerry on the couch and looked up at him with a shy, lowered face. “I, uh, I m-missed you,” he said demurely, and was annoyed to find his hand shaking when he went to place it on Jerry’s thigh. God, this sucked. He was going to kill Morty. 

Jerry, the thick dunce, finally cottoned on with an, “OOohh,” in lowered tones. “Well, all you had to do was ask,” he said in a jokingly smarmy, completely irritating tone, his hand coming to rest on top of Rick’s, and Rick was exceedingly glad that he hadn't had to ask, because that would have sucked triple hard. 

His skin crawled when Jerry's arm came around him and pulled him to face him. And when Rick was pulled down into a kiss, a slimy tongue shoving into his mouth, he groaned in disgust, hoping it would be taken for a moan. Ugh, it was Jerry. Sloppy, gross, pathetic, shitty Jerry. All in his mouth. 

He needed to pull himself together, he thought, as his stomach sloshed unhappily. But fuck this. No one said it had to be fucking romantic. Just fucking get it over with. He broke back from the kiss and ground out, “Jerry, do you- do you wanna f-... m-m-make love to me?”

His eyes squeezed shut as he said it. Fuck, this was awful, he could feel his cheeks burning and he had felt ready to bail since he had walked through the door. 

The waste of carbon sitting on the couch next to Rick blushed as well and said, “Oh, Ricky,” in a affected, high pitched, pathetic tone that made Rick want to tear out his eyeballs. He took Rick's hand and made to stand up and lead them to the bedroom. 

Rick didn't want to go to the bedroom. Way too intimate. Way too real. “Let’s just- c-can we do it here?,” he said, shooting for some kind of coquettish, then added in panicked exasperation when Jerry just stared, “I’m just, I’m just really…,” he made himself spit it out, “h-horny for you, so horny, Jerry, I just want it h-here and now.” Ugh, he wanted to shrivel up and die. Murder, he would murder Morty slowly. 

“Ricky, you little dog!” Jerry said with a delighted smile, his eyes wide and excited. He lept onto Rick with a growl, pushing him backwards on the couch, and attacking Rick’s neck with desperate, slobbery kisses. A shudder went down Rick’s body. Gross. Jerry's hand made a lewd grab for his crotch, apparently not noticing it's lack of interest, and began grinding the heel of his hand on it. 

Rick knew he should do something to not look suspicious, but there was very little he wanted to do, so he settled on rubbing awkward circles on Jerry’s back. Then he felt Jerry's hand snake into his pants and he grunted as blunt, sweaty fingers wrapped around his limp cock. They gave a brief tug or two before Jerry looked up at his face and said, “R-Ricky?” in a confused voice. 

“S-sorry Jerr-Bear, just f-feelin’ sad tonight. Don't worry about it, let's keep going.” 

Rick was horrified at himself. Jerr-Bear?? What the hell was that? God, he was gonna have to memory wipe himself just for that. He was interrupted by Jerry saying, “I bet I know what to do for that” in a playful sing-song tone, and tugging down Rick’s pants. Rick aided the process, a blowjob from Jerry sounded like it would be the most pleasant part of this evening. 

But he found himself flipped over on his stomach with Jerry nudging his knees up, leaving him high and exposed with any trace of conciliatory pleasure evaporating. What the hell, was the dipshit just gonna plow into him regardless? Rick steeled himself, face red and stony, as fingers spread him. At least it would mean this was over faster. 

Then his eyes flew wide and a guttural grunt escaped him when Jerry’s tongue wriggled into his anus. Oh fuck, he hadn't been expecting that. It was disgusting and awful and worst of all, he knew Morty was cackling in delight somewhere because the terrible thing of it was, Rick, presumably just like his Doofus counterpart, loved getting eaten out. 

And sure enough, he felt his dick begin to twitch as that wretched tongue, attached to a man that was lower than muck, swirled around his insides. He gritted his teeth, it was stupid, he shouldn't let it bother him. But it did, it did, it did. 

He moaned a little despite himself when he felt Jerry’s thumbs pop inside him, stretching him open and stabbing his tongue deeper inside, and he felt his face burn hotter. His dick was fully at attention now, and this could not get more humiliating, except of course it did when Jerry reached around and grabbed his cock, beginning to stroke it with a murmured, pleased, “That's it, Daddy’s got ya,” tickling into the cleft of Rick's ass. 

Rick groaned, low and angry. He could feel his hips want to move, to push into Jerry's hand and back against his tongue, but he would be damned if he lost control of himself because of goddamn Jerry Smith. On one hand he understood how pointless that was, but he wasn't about to give the wretched man or his accursed offspring the satisfaction. 

Jerry removed his tongue from Rick’s ass with an insipid, gross wet sound, Rick cursing himself as he felt his hips try to follow the withdrawing motion on instinct.  
He heard Jerry unzip his pants and fumble himself out, and then the sweaty man-child was leaning over to whisper roughly in Rick’s ear, “Tell me, baby, tell Daddy what you need,” while he lined himself up. 

His touch was disgusting, his voice was disgusting, and presumably his pitiful Jerry dick, which Rick thankfully couldn't see, was disgusting, and Rick ground his teeth into powder as he forced the words out, wishing violent, painful death on that miserable little shit. 

“I need you to f-fuck me, D-Daddy,”

His face was going to combust, he felt like his whole self was going to combust with embarrassment and rage and there was nothing he could do, he was pinned by his own pride like he was about to be pinned by Jerry’s penis. 

He felt the head push hesitantly into him, almost teasing, fraying Rick's last remaining thread of patience and control, and just when he sucked in a breath to yell or scream or start throwing blows, Jerry pushed the rest of the way into him with a grunt. Rick’s breath sputtered out of him unevenly, sounding far too much like a moan, and Jerry began to rock back and forth, his clammy hands resting on either side of Rick’s ass. 

He slowly picked up speed, letting out wimpy, horny little moans as he fucked Rick, who was trying desperately to distance himself from the fact that his spine was tingling and his ass had that pleasant fullness because Jerry fucking Smith was reaming into him, to little avail. 

The worst part of it was, Jerry objectively wasn't doing a half-bad job. He presumably had some amount of practice with his Rick, and seemed to at least somewhat know what he was doing. His cock jabbed against Rick’s prostrate more often than chance would allow, and when he reached around and took Rick in hand his touch was presumptuous and confident, like he was familiar with what Rick needed. 

Rick absolutely loathed the fact that his presumption was correct. He felt his orgasm building, remorseless and uncaring of his discomfort. He realized with a snarl he couldn't quite contain that he was rocking back and forth, fucking himself on Jerry's cock and his hand.

He felt Jerry pick up the pace further as his hand planted itself in the small of Rick's back, humping him like a dog, while Rick growled like one underneath him, his toes curling while hatred and arousal buried him. 

He realized with dismay that he was about to come, he was truly going to come before this asshole in one final bit of degradation. But there was nothing he could do about it, he felt heat pool in his groin and barrel out of him in one swift rush as he came into Jerry’s hand with a harsh, long grunt. 

As Rick slumped, panting, feeling vaguely in shock, Jerry’s hand left him and he gave a few furious thrusts before pulling out quickly, as Rick gasped in surprise. Jerry took himself in hand and came with a quavery whine, his jizz spattering down onto Rick’s back. 

Of fucking course. 

Rick let out a bone weary, shaky sigh and pulled his pants back up. He got up and shot a portal open, while Jerry squawked in dazed confusion. He stepped through without glancing back. He was fucking done. 

He came through to find the other bane of his existence red-faced and teetering on the edge with cock in hand, staring avidly at the monitor he had been watching through. When Rick entered the room he spun around in his chair and gasped, “R-Rick, c-come here, q-quick.”

Rick rolled his eyes and ambled over, taking a knee resignedly, unsurprised when a matching coat of semen splashed on his front. Just wonderful. 

He looked at the panting, unbelievable boy in front of him with a mixture of annoyance and fondness. After a few seconds, Morty caught his breath and looked at his grandfather. 

“G-god, Rick, your- your face. It was so red and embarrassed. It was w-wonderful,” the creepy twerp said dazedly and unabashedly, a big grin spreading across his face.

Rick made a disgusted, annoyed sound and dragged his hand over his face. “Jesus, Jesus Christ, Morty, if you- if you wanted to embarrass me you could have ju-just made me piss myself, Morty. T-There was no need for this whole debacle- this, this roundabout insane nesting doll of incest, Morty. I-I-I coulda just pissed myself.”

“H-Huh…”

“Well, good to know. But you, you sound like you're g-getting a bit worked up there, Rick. You sure you’re ok? You could have, you know, c-called it off, if you needed to,” Morty said as his grin grew wider, toothier. 

Rick muttered darkly, but found himself impressed. The kid did not give a fuck that he had instigated some crazy shit all for the sake of humiliating Rick.

Which was just as well, because Rick didn't really give a fuck either. Not so long as he got his… appropriate compensation for such a demanding challenge. 

“Ohhh I'm better than ok, Morty. You really should be less sure of yourself, a-as far as that goes. I got, at least- at least fifty different ideas in store for what to get out of this one,” he said with a mockingly sorrowful shake of his head, an evil smirk spreading across his face. Oh, he was gonna make the punk squeal. 

And with a cackle he drew his portal gun and fired it into the floor just beside him, pulling Morty in screaming by the ankle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick's right, pissing would have made a hell of a lot more sense, lol. But out of admiration for a lovely little fic I just read, Permission by VoidSpace, I decided to try something else.


	5. Day 5 (sorta 6): Size Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, when your cheating multiple-prompt-usage ends up wrecking your chapter title format. #realproblems
> 
> This is pretty much just feels and fluff guys, it's barely smut at all. Blame Morty.

Rick had strange ways of showing his morals. Most would say he had none, but Morty knew otherwise. 

They were obscure, definitely. Oblique. Complicated. 

One of the oddest examples, at least from an outside perspective, but one of the strongest to Morty, was the way Rick had sex with him. 

It wasn't all softness or sweetness. It wasn't “one of Jerry’s shitty rom-coms,” as Rick had forewarned him when they had started fooling around, and Morty had laughed at him because of course it wouldn't be like that. 

They tested each other, pushed and prodded to the breaking point just like they did everywhere else in life. Rick would drive him out of his mind, could and would bring him to a screaming, sobbing, helpless state of panicked, blind need, would take him entirely apart, piece by relentless piece.

But Rick always put him back together again. And there was more to it than that, though it was hard for Morty to put his finger on it. It was like a constant awareness of his role, his inherent responsibility or culpability in all this. Like he was doing his damndest not to be a pedophile, as he fucked his grandson. On some level he seemed to take it all more seriously than Morty had ever expected. It was kind of sweet. 

It also made Morty feel like a bit of an asshole, like maybe he was the dirty, amoral one in their relationship. Because the honest truth was, a big part of him liked the deep, undeniable gulf between them that Rick tried not to give credence to. He was turned on by the fact that Rick was so much bigger and more powerful than him, could lift him with one sinewy arm, could wrap his bony hands almost entirely around Morty’s waist. 

It went deeper than a kink. Rick was fine with kinks, any kink. But Morty knew Rick would be uncomfortable, would undoubtedly blame himself if he knew about the overwhelming sense of smallness, weakness, and perfect, protected peace that Morty bathed in when Rick closed his giant palm around Morty’s tiny wrist and tugged him somewhere, or tossed him over his shoulder and carried him off, or covered his scrawny body entirely as he screwed Morty through the mattress. 

They were his secret moments of satisfaction, where he felt not babyish, not submissive. Just, small. Less. 

He wasn't sure how much of a secret they really were though, because Morty really, really enjoyed being fucked against a wall, and that was no secret. 

Rick would look at him with a knowing glint, but never call him out on it whenever Morty asked for it. He would do it stalwartly and excellently, would even pick Morty up (oh God yes) and carry him over to the wall, thumping him up against it with a perfect amount of force. 

He could hold Morty up with one hand while divesting him of pants with the other, and it inevitably made Morty moan, feverish before they had even truly started. 

And God, when he’d hold onto the side of Morty's ass, supporting his weight with a hand as wide as it, and slide himself in with the other it was almost more than Morty could stand. He would throw his thin arms around Rick's neck and pant and moan ‘yes, yes, yes’ as Rick pumped into him, feeling like he was being cradled by a god, a giant as endless as space. 

He would lose himself, trusting in Rick to hold him and keep him safe and give him what he needed and it was more or less what he always did but it never felt so real, so immediate, as when he was helplessly curled up with his back on the wall, knowing that Rick would never let him fall. 

And when he came in the small space between their bodies he would almost cry, every time, overwhelmed with peace and safety and love. And after Rick came with a quiet grunt he would place a soft kiss on Morty’s forehead, every time. 

And the fact that Rick would never ask for this, just like he would never call Morty ‘baby’ without being prompted, warmed Morty’s heart even as it broke it a little. It made love swell painfully inside him, for this strange, irreplaceable man that Morty wasn't sure he really deserved.


	6. Day 6 (7), 13, 17: Creampie, Medical, Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now for something totally different! *nervous tap dance and flourish*
> 
> Um... so I took these particular prompts and ran with them to weird places. I'm sorry if I lose anyone, it gets... kinda off-putting? Idk. Feel free to skip.

Sometimes Morty needed to be taken apart. 

It was just one of a hundred million pieces of knowledge in Rick's head. It's acquisition had been unexpected, Morty’s ashamed, barely perceptible confession certainly a shock back when it occurred. But it was a definable, containable fact, that could be met and controlled and conquered like any other. 

That did not explain the cold sweat that broke out on Rick on those rare occasions Morty asked for it. Like tonight, as he restrained a shiver and looked at the boy, well, closer to a man now, but still so small, that stood before him with hands clasped, looking off to the side. 

“Alright, Morty. Y-You know what to do. I'll meet you there in ten.”

He kept his face and voice impassive. Morty nodded, not meeting his eye, and walked softly away. It annoyed Rick how ashamed the kid still acted about all this. It seemed hypocritical, almost coy. This was, after all, his rodeo. 

Or maybe he was just imitating what he was seeing in Rick. The question irked him, it seemed like a no-win scenario. Because Rick didn't think he had it in him to act more light-hearted about this.

He didn't let himself drink during those ten minutes. And when they were up he went and joined Morty in the special room of the sub basement. 

 

Morty was laid out on the table Rick had spent over an hour, far more time than necessary, building. He was naked, his pale body trembling, held by the contours of the table’s smooth metal surface. 

As Rick grabbed the syringe in one hand and Morty's quivering arm with the other, he shot the boy a hard look, and the tremors slowly subsided. He pushed the needle into the crook of his arm while Morty let out a faint anticipatory hiss, his toes twitching. Then Rick injected the analgesic he had designed for this (eight superfluous hours of work, and five more test subjects than strictly necessary) into Morty's vein. 

It always worked quickly, and as soon as he saw the heaviness settle over Morty’s body, the haze come into his eyes, he changed position and changed tools. 

Rick leaned over Morty's lower arm with the scalpel in hand, waited for the required thumbs-up from the kid, and slowly broke through his skin. Blood welled quickly to the surface, spilling over his arm onto the table, and Morty let out a quiet sound. It was not a very shallow cut. None of them would be, because there would be relatively few, no more than a dozen at most, and each one mattered for the task at hand. 

He paused, allowed Morty to breathe, then made another cut parallel to the first. Morty gasped slightly louder, his hand flexing weakly. The analgesic only somewhat deadened pain, and heightened other sensations. It was what Morty wanted it to be. 

He moved over to the other arm and repeated the process. Blood dripped from four bright lines on Morty's arms, channeled neatly away by furrows designed into the table. Morty breathed evenly, deeply, his eyes half-lidded and already falling into wherever he went for this. 

Rick glanced at his watch. Sensors in the table told him everything he needed to know about Morty’s vital signs. He was fine to proceed. 

He bent over Morty’s chest and slid the scalpel across Morty's right pectoral, opening up an angry red line. Morty moaned slightly, and Rick knew without having to look that his cock would be stirring. It always did at this part. He simply moved to the other side, waited the requisite seconds, and cut open the left as well. 

It would be easier maybe, if this wasn't sexual. But it was, at least for Morty. Rick was just grateful for the fact that he could do this, could cut his grandson open, without having to fight an erection at the same time. 

There were three cuts to make on each side of Morty's stomach, the tricksiest, most ticklish ones, spaced in between ribs. He did these ones particularly carefully, wary for any twitches or jumps from Morty. But Morty just sighed and gave soft dreamy sounds, holding himself still. 

Finally Rick stood in front of the table and gazed down, surveying the situation. His grandson was bleeding slowly and steadily from the twelve wounds on his body, a thin corona of red around his form. His top half was held still, almost rigid, but below the waist his cock was hard and twitching, his legs shivering in restless tremors. The sensation in Rick’s stomach as he looked was uncomfortable and indistinct, as it always was. 

Now came the easier, more difficult part. 

Rick split open the lower portion of the table, moving Morty's legs apart and leaving him open and exposed. He stepped in between and divested himself of pants calmly and efficiently. He reached out, took Morty’s cock in his hand, and started pulling with slow, even strokes, allowing his eyes to flutter close as he heard Morty gasp tremulously, and allowing his own arousal to start to build at the sound. If and how much he touched Morty had been left optional, up to Rick, but he always did. He needed to. 

He touched himself more carelessly, more utilitarian than the lingering tugs he gave Morty, and when he was ready he slicked himself and lined himself up to Morty’s entrance. His grandson neither wanted nor needed any preparation for himself, in this particular game. 

After his eyes briefly met Morty’s cloudy anticipation-filled ones, Rick pushed in slowly, a grunt when his head breached through practically the only sound he had made so far. Morty groaned, his body tensing slightly.

Rick wondered distantly, as he paused, if Morty would be more comfortable if Rick talked more when they did this activity. He had tried to, on occasion, but he inevitably found himself at a loss. What was there to say? Even he struggled to think of a joke about this.

A twitch from Morty's leg, a hitched breath, prompted Rick to begin moving, and he pulled out, then thrust slowly back in, rocking his hips gently until he had built up to a smooth, steady pace. Being inside Morty was wonderful, it always felt warm and right. Always, always. 

He kept his hand on Morty's cock, tugging it leisurely, as Morty gave untethered, distant groans, his calves moving feebly on the table to either side of Rick, his skin a riot of pallor and blush and red. Despite the kid’s obvious arousal, Rick knew it was a coin toss whether he’d actually come during this. The slow, constant blood loss would make him too weak and woozy for that to be a given. It wasn't really the point, either, though Morty had never explicitly stated what the point of this was. 

Rick knew he was supposed to go harder, so he did, beginning to thrust faster into Morty. He did his best to ignore how the wounds on Morty’s arms and torso bled more with the harsher fucking, how the lines on his sides wavered. That was the desired effect, and he knew what he was doing, and so did Morty, and whatever useless uncertain flip-flopping his stomach was doing was exactly that, useless, and unworthy of attention. But it was always very, very hard to look away from them. 

The second sound Rick made was a harsh breath, when he began panting as his arousal built to its logical conclusion. It never took very long, something of a mercy and a condemnation of character. He began thrusting more urgently into Morty, his hands clamping down on the boy's hips, relieved to start losing himself in the pleasure of the body around him. 

He could hear Morty start chanting his name, "Rick, Rick, Rick.." over and over in a drunken murmur as Rick fucked him. The sound flared both his arousal and his uneasy stomach and began to blend them together, as it always did. Then he was almost pummeling Morty in his desire for release, for an end, jaw clenching and twisting. And then with a coarse, sharp groan he fell over the edge and emptied himself into his grandson, feeling his heartbeat roar in his head, his arms tremble spastically. 

Morty sucked in a whooping, warbling breath like he had been gutted, his eyes looking barely-conscious. But as Rick pulled out he seemed to drag himself back together into greater coherence and his whole body stiffened and stilled, though his cock was half-hard and forgotten. 

It was like he was waiting, or listening very keenly for something. And after about half a minute a shiver went through his entire broken, bleeding body, starting at his feet and moving upwards in a slow crescendo while he gave a low, satiated moan. Then his eyes closed and he went limp. 

Rick had never asked. He had made it a point not to ask more questions than necessary about this whole business. But that didn't matter. 

As Rick bustled about getting regenerators and blood replenishers, he tried not to think about it. But his hands were shakier than they should be, like they always were, because there was another piece of knowledge Rick had, though Morty had never, ever said anything about it. Part of the reason he insisted Rick do this was because he loved the idea of Rick trickling out of him while his lifeblood trickled out of him. And yet another piece of knowledge was that part of Rick loved it just as much. 

And that was likely why he always broke out in a cold sweat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys. I'm really not sure what that was all about. Next chapter will be less edgy. (Haa see what I did there?)


	7. Day 7 (8), 20: Leather, Pet Play

The craziest thing about it all, was that Rick was the one who asked for this. 

Though he was acting strangely cagey, almost shy now, he was the one who had asked for them to be here in his room, with Morty holding a leather collar and holy shit, wait a second, were those ears, fucking little black leather ears half-hidden in his grey disaster of hair? Morty’s eyes bulged for a second, he couldn't help it, and he almost broke into nervous laughter right there. 

He had told Rick he might laugh, and Rick had just shrugged. But Morty preferred to at least try to be an adult about all this. 

“Um…”

His voice warbled wildly, and he cleared his throat. Great start. 

“Um, well, I guess you- you should, like, get down, or-or lean over so I can put this on.”

Rick just gave him an expressive eyeroll and crossed his arms, suddenly all attitude despite the fact that he was standing naked with ears on, and Morty realized. Fuck. 

“Uh, s-sit.”

Rick dropped. Morty blinked in shock, and kept blinking as he took in the sight of his grandfather kneeling on the ground on all fours. 

“G-g-good boy,” he stammered out as his face blushed bright red. Holy fucking shit was this weird already. 

He moved around to stand behind Rick and bent down to put the collar on. It was a soft black leather, wide with dull studs. It reminded Morty faintly of the what he had seen his grandfather wear during that dream hopping madness, and he wondered if that collar had been there for the same reason this one would be. 

Maybe not, his grandfather was into all sorts of things. But somehow this one seemed so unexpected, Morty couldn't even say why, just that it made his gut shift around. 

But the collar did feel nice in his hand, and when he felt it how it scraped along the underside of Rick’s jaw as he slid it into place he shivered a bit. And when he lifted the hair at the nape of Rick’s neck to fasten it they both shivered a bit. 

He felt like he could look at that particular sight, the kneeling line of his grandfather's bent head, quieted by a thick band of black, for some time. And he did, his hand lingering on Rick’s neck. 

Then he realized he should probably get a move on, Rick was waiting for him. Oh jeez, what was he supposed to do now? 

Morty backed up a few paces and looked at his collared, dog-eared, naked grandfather, gazing neutrally into space on all fours. It was so surreal. He decided he might as well test the waters. 

“Uh.. sp-speak.” 

Rick barked.

Holy shit. He actually fucking barked. The super genius barked at him and it was too fucking weird and funny and after a beat of silence Morty started giggling helplessly. He didn't even know why it was funny, and he quickly felt guilty and stopped. He fidgeted, knowing he was blushing again. 

Rick showed no reaction, though his face might have been slightly pinker, Morty wasn't sure. 

He told Rick again to speak and got another bark and this time managed not to laugh, and tried to analyze how he felt about it. It was… odd, there was no denying that. There was a definite rush from having Rick obey his commands so completely, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the pet element. 

Maybe more familiar ground would help. “C-come,” he said hesitantly. Rick's only facial reaction was a slightly higher alertness in his eyes, then he crawled across the floor to Morty. Morty felt a definite shiver go up his spine at the sight of Rick on all fours heading toward him. But those ears…

Rick came to a stop in front of him. Morty licked his lips nervously and said, “S- uh- s-suck it”, gesturing vaguely at his crotch, feeling like a total tool. He wasn't sure if this was the right way to do things or not. 

Rick closed the distance between them and pressed his nose up to Morty’s crotch, and whined, high-pitched and drawn out as he nuzzled his face into his jeans. . 

For several moments Morty just stared stupidly. Then it occurred to him. Oh, right, no hands. And he blushed for the umpteenth time and stuttered out an apology as he fumbled himself free. 

Rick's eyes locked on his cock, which quickly finished filling out under his gaze. Every blowjob from his grandfather was a delight, always to be anticipated and treasured. Then Rick crawled another inch or two forward and licked it from root to tip. 

Morty gasped, his hands clenching in Rick's hair, quickly skittering away from the ears he accidentally bumped into at first. He heard Rick make a noise, and then the man was licking him again, curling his tongue around and up the shaft as Morty groaned. 

It felt awesome, but a part of him couldn't help but wonder if he'd be restricted to a licking-only blowjob given the circumstances. That would be a bit of a disappointment and he was considering trying to figure out how to bring it up when Rick suddenly sucked him fully into his mouth, as if he had read his mind. 

Morty groaned far more fervently than before as Rick began to suck pulsingly on him. This was more like it and his hands carded through Rick's hair in arousal, only to bump into those damn ears again. Rick let out a small moan around his dick when Morty hit them. 

Morty, who had been leisurely gyrating his hips into Rick's mouth, stopped, and thought. His hands went up to Rick's black leather ears, and tentatively ran the fabric between his fingers. Rick moaned louder, his bobbing rhythm faltering slightly. 

What the… fuck? But it was just leather… He froze entirely, his jaw dropping open in shock. 

“Oh my god Rick, are those- are those real??” He said, tugging mindlessly on the black, definitely leather ears. There was no headband, he realized, as he stared at his grandfather's head. 

Rick pulled off him with a sigh. 

“Ow, Morty, fucking stop. I'm a goddamn mad scientist, bro, did ya- did you think I was gonna go to some sex shop and, and fucking buy a pair?”

Rick blew out a breath as Morty continued staring aghast at him. “Alright, I'm- I'm callin’ it,” he finally said a bemused, long-suffering tone. 

“What?” Morty squawked, confused. 

“You're not into this. It's easy to tell, ‘cuz you kinda fucking suck at it. You coulda just said something.” 

Morty blushed brighter than ever. Oh Jesus, this was more mortifying than anything else they had done tonight. He wished Rick was still just barking. 

“I don't- it's not- I'm, I'm down with this,” he said, hating how he sounded almost sulky. 

Rick rolled his eyed. “Morty, you were so constantly embarrassed, it- it was contagious for god's sake.”

Morty sighed internally. He had an opportunity to boss Rick around and have him listen perfectly, albeit as a dog-person, and he blew it. It would probably be ages before Rick would so eagerly want to hand the reigns over to him, so to speak.

“Don't be an idiot, Morty. Like it fucking matters,” his grandfather said fondly, shaking his head. 

“So unless I'm mistaken, which I'm not, it's lose the ears…” He leaned over to grab a syringe lying haphazardly under the bed and jammed it into either black ear, not even wincing when they shriveled and fell off, though Morty did. Then he looked at Morty with a smirk and continued, “But keep the collar, right?” 

Morty froze, then gave him a sheepish grin and mumbled, “Um, yeah,” shock and embarrassment at getting caught out slowly being outweighed by the excitement catching in his belly. 

“Um… will you still, still do what I say?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, Morty,” Rick replied earnestly, then leaned back in towards Morty with a lopsided grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda with Morty on this one, lol. 
> 
> First blowjob scene of the series! Hooray!


	8. Day 8 (10): Edgeplay (Rapeplay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um so I didn't know what edgeplay was beforehand, and when I looked it up I was like "shit, well, I already did fucking bloodletting, what the hell can I do that would get more into the vibe than that?" 'Cuz how on earth do you do edgeplay when one of the people is practically omnipotent? So there's sorta maybe rape here guys. But at least it's on Rick. Sorta. 
> 
> Btw, before I thought it meant orgasm-denial. This could have been a nice little piece about that but nooooo. :P Enjoy.

Rick had to admit that he felt a bizarre sort of pride, for both of them, as they stood in front of each other. 

It spoke of no small amount of time and trust-building and, Rick could grudgingly admit to himself, maybe even personal growth that they were here now, doing what they were about to do. It said even more that Rick had been the one to suggest it, and could do so without unduly questioning his own motives beyond honest pleasure-seeking for them both. It was a gift he had been given, truly. He was grateful. 

He looked at his grandson, who was holding an identical injector to his own, and said, “Start at the switch. You ready for this?”

Morty nodded, looking solemn and nervous and, Rick could see underneath all that, excited. He luxuriated in his own squirming eagerness. This was going to be insane. He couldn't wait to see what the kid made of it. 

“Alright, kiddo. In three, two, one..”

They shot the consciousness injectors into their own necks simultaneously, and everything went dark with a nauseating lurch. 

He opened his eyes to look at himself, smirking down at him, and then a needle appeared in an old, long-fingered hand and jabbed into his arm, and everything he knew started to fuzz into vagueness. He faded back until all he could see was a familiar small, mean, smile. 

 

Morty stared down at his trembling, near-fainting self with a bizarre mix of emotions, for sure. From the get go the idea had filled him with a rather shameful interest, both that he would be into something like this, and that Rick would know it. He could hardly blame Rick for that though.

And there was no point to, not when Morty could feel that coil of desire moving up his tall, lanky, deliciously foreign body even now as he scooped up his self, who gave out a dazed mumble as he did so. He cradled the small body, marveling at the mixture of power and quiet pains that being in Rick’s body seemed to consist of. They had body swapped before, once, under extremely different, adventure-related circumstances, but the intent now made it feel entirely different.

He threw the limp, small teen that housed his grandfather onto Rick’s cot roughly, locking the door behind him. He knew what he was supposed to do, what he felt coiled eagerness to do, but he didn't know precisely what all Rick knew at the moment. Morty didn't know what exactly the drug he had injected did, how incapacitated or truly unaware Rick was right now. By what he assumed was implicit agreement, he hadn't asked, and Rick hadn't told. 

He knew why. The danger, the blurring lines, only added to the arousal. He could understand that just as well as Rick.

“M-Morty…” he growled and shivered, hearing his grandfather's rough tones. He hadn't been sure if he was going to go there that explicitly, but he liked it. 

He leaned over and straddled the slim hips, fisting his hand into the curly brown hair and pulling tight. “Oh, Morty you're- you're in trouble now. You've got, got yourself all fucked up, and you just expect me to, to clean up after you like I always do.” The words came effortlessly, like a script he knew by heart. The boy beneath him gasped and looked at him with wide, dazed eyes.

“What do I get out of this, huh? What's my reward for- for taking care of you huh? Pretty selfish behavior of you, if- if you ask me,” he said with a smirk, his hand snaking down to squeeze roughly at his underwear-covered genitals. He watched anxiety pass across his own face, and he didn't know if it was real or not, and it was so hot. 

He heard a mumbled beginning of some sort of question and he silenced it with a sudden, bruising kiss, his hand pulling tighter on the hair as he pushed his tongue into the smaller, pliant mouth beneath him. He felt a high-pitched, quavering moan be released into his mouth, and it turned into a squeal as he slipped his hand down inside the boxers and wrapped his hand around the small, limp cock inside. It began to swell as he palmed it roughly, fingers twisting around the sensitive head. He did know how to manipulate the body under him, after all. 

He broke off from the teenage mouth and began to bite down the pale fragile neck. Arousal felt a bit different in Rick's body than in his own, cold and inexorable, like a glacier that inevitably crushed everything before it. 

He heard his own fearful voice give a pained gasp and say “W-why are you doing this?” and Morty still didn't know if it was real, if Rick remembered where or who he was and it drove him wild, the possibility, the dangerous, horrible chance. 

“Don't bother putting your feeble brain up to the task, kid. Just know you're getting what's been coming to you,” he said with leer, feeling his cock begin to absolutely throb. 

He snagged the underwear and ripped it down harshly, while small limbs moved feebly against him in what might have been protest. He smirked unpleasantly at the naked body in front of him as he pushed down on its chest and drawled, “Jesus, y- you're pathetic. Just look at you, you won't even fight me, because you're nothing, nothing but a worthless little slut.” He grabbed a small arm and leg and flipped the boy over roughly, as if unconcerned whether he got hurt in the process. 

“You want this, don't you? W- Wanna be good for your grandpa?” He hissed lowly, menacingly as he pressed his weight down on the slim back, his hand reaching down between the legs he pushed apart. 

He drew his finger slowly along the sensitive skin behind the balls, creeping towards the anus. Morty listened to the low, trembling moan of “noooo”, felt his own small body quiver underneath him, and breathed through his arousal for one heady second. 

Then he plunged his finger inwards and twisted, his eyes rolling back at the sensation and the familiar shrill cry that rang throughout the room. His body was tight, so very tight, and he quickly added another old, bony finger and began scissoring it open as he heard high-pitched whines come from the boy's mouth, felt him twitch and try to jerk away.

He prepped him quickly, minimally, shoving three fingers in once at the end with a vicious turn, earning him another choked squeal as his hand came around to tug the boy's cock a few times.

Then he sat back and lubed his own, well, Rick’s, impressive length. For a moment Morty forgot everything else to just marvel at the eroticism of feeling tight pleasure through touches to his grandfather's borrowed dick. He stroked it a few times, it's weight and size so different, his desire flaring up even more aggressively than before. He needed to fuck with it. 

He grabbed the small hips in a painfully firm hold and lined himself up to the quaking hole beneath him. He pressed against the entrance, his body tense with need, and looked once more at the insane, amazing tableaux before him. He heard a gasp and the beginning of what sounded like “please” and he cut it off by thrusting inwards, the words lost in a ragged scrabbling at the bed as the head of his dick pushed slowly, punishingly through. 

“Ah, k-kiddo, this, this is what your ass was made for,” he growled as he bottomed out and began moving in little rocking motions immediately, giving the body beneath him no time to adjust. The teen gave short, pained breaths in time with his thrusts, crying out when he randomly pushed in more fiercely. 

Morty's head was swirling madly as he gradually began pounding into his own body, hearing it groan and tremble. His hand went back to the boy's cock, which seemed to have drooped somewhat, and began jerking it roughly. At the same time he dropped his head down to the smooth young back before him and bit into it violently. It felt so raw, and uncontrolled and purifying. Like setting fire to secrets. 

Or if opening a closet to prove there were no monsters in it was turned into sex thing, then maybe this would be like that. 

Morty felt the boy flail underneath him with a small wailing scream and thrust even harder and faster, his orgasm beginning to swirl together in his gut. He grunted harshly as his long thighs slammed into shorter ones over and over, feeling blood begin to well in his mouth. 

Then he heard his own voice say, shakily, brokenly in between gasps, “R-Rick… p-p-p-please d-don't” and he came with a near howl, sucking hard on the bite on Morty’s back, he meant his own back, whatever, and emptying himself of that burning need in a few final, brutal pushes as the body underneath him collapsed. 

He panted for a long minute, then withdrew and glanced down at the teenage body that housed his grandfather. It looked dazed, sort of empty, and he winced at the thought of his consciousness climbing back into that battered shell. But it was necessary for Rick to be back in charge of himself, so he could start fixing them up. 

He grabbed the two injectors and lined them up to their respective necks, one in each hand, sighed and stretched once more in the lanky, foreignly familiar body he was in, and fired. 

He opened his eyes with effort to a world that was blurred and confused. His body felt sore, terribly weak. “R-Rick?” he croaked blearily after some unknowable time had passed. 

Instantly he felt a hand run soothingly over his forehead. “R-right here, k-kiddo, I got ya,” a quiet gruff voice said. It was a voice he knew better than anyone else's, even his own, one he trusted implicitly to take care of things always, and he felt himself drift away woozily, incapable of feeling concerned any longer. 


	9. Bonus Drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little piece of nothing, something I thought was funny at 1am. Toys aren't even on the list, I think, so just consider this a little bonus to tide you over until I write the next "serious" chapter. Lol. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Morty fiddled with the controller in his sweaty palm. This was going to be great. Rick had done things like this to him so many times, and now finally it was his turn to watch the super genius squirm. He had to hand it to Rick, the man had been surprisingly amenable to Morty’s blushing, reflexively-defensive suggestion, merely shrugging with a “sure, kiddo”. That wasn't about to make Morty take it easy on him, though. 

He held his breath, and turned the switch on to its lowest setting. 

Rick’s fork paused for a split second on its journey to his mouth, then he chewed and swallowed normally. 

Morty bit his lip in anticipation as he waited and watched from the corner of his eye. He pushed the dial one higher. 

Rick just kept eating, taking a drink from his flask and belching grossly. 

Morty frowned and moved the dial one higher again, then turned it through several levels in building frustration as Rick didn't react. 

Now he had it on almost its highest setting, the point at which if it weren't for the chatter and clinking silverware the motor would be nearly audible. And Rick was still eating smoothly and calmly. Then Morty saw him smirk, seemingly at nothing but Morty knew it was directed at him and he had to swallow the growl in his throat. What a fucking cheater. How worn-out was Rick’s ass, that this was all nothing to him? 

Then his father started bitching at Rick for tossing out chemical waste on top of his bougainvilleas and Morty seized the opportunity. He waited for Rick to begin responding. 

“Jerry there's- there's a thousand reasons why I don't give a shit about your faggy plants. Like that I'm a scientist, and doing science ranks higher than your useless empty hobbies.”

Morty began turning the dial back and forth and random. 

“You know, I am so sick of you- you're not supposed to-” 

“And also I think your entire existence is useless, and your complaints register- beuurp- less to me than a bird chirping on a tree branch.”

Morty cranked the dial back and forth more vigorously. Something, give him something, a falter, a gasp, a faint flush, anything. 

“You can't talk to me like this, Beth said-” 

“And I have nothing but full contempt for everything you are and represent, and will never take time out of my busy day to consider how my actions affect you.” 

Morty had turned back the dial, then slammed it up to its fastest setting as Rick spoke and the controller broke with a muffled crack, Morty coughing in surprise and alarm. Then he heard his grandfather speak again and almost choked. 

“And there's a dildo up my ass right now. So all in all Jerry, yeah, I don't care about your stupid bush. Great talk.”

“Be-eeeeth!”

“Now I'm done,” Summer pronounced in disgust as she let her fork clatter to the plate. “Thanks for that Grandpa Rick”

“Any time sweetie,” Rick replied as he stood with a luxurious stretch, belched, and said “Great dinner, Beth, pork was, was knock-your-socks-off.” 

And then he sauntered out of the room. 

Morty let himself give out a disgruntled little huff, willing his blush to go down. Rick was such a bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also just realized today's my one month anniversary of going insane and starting to write and post incest shit on ao3. Hooray!(?)
> 
> Ahahaaa oh life choices.


	10. Day 9 (14,15): Sensory Deprivation, Sounding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is like over 4K guys. Idk what happened, it's just this big sloppy ballad on subRick. I'm sorry/not sorry?

As bizarrely counterproductive as it sounded, Rick knew that a lot of what he did in Morty’s and his ‘relationship’ (he still cringed slightly at the new subtext to the word) was motivated by lingering guilt about the relationship. He was more self-conscious than he would ever normally be, because deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong. 

But if what it amounted to was being better towards Morty than he would otherwise be, then Rick could stand contaminating himself with irrational motivations. If somewhat begrudgingly. 

But the unfortunate side effect of his new conscience mingling with his natural perversity was that he was left, essentially, an awkward dingus. 

The kind of dingus that would show off his collection of bdsm tools and devices to an obviously overwhelmed and stammering Morty and take that as a sign that he should go ahead and plan out a crash course for the kid. 

It hadn't gone particularly well. Morty had lasted through being chemically blinded (Rick didn't tend to go half-way and use shitty masks that obscured the view) for about thirty seconds before shrieking out the safeword “glibglob!” at the first touch of a Wartenberg wheel. 

Rick pretended to be exasperated as he administered the reversal but inwardly he was tearing himself apart. How could he have thought Morty would just want to dive into something like this, only three months into them fooling around? He was an idiot, and he had pushed the little twerp too far, and it bothered Rick a lot more than it should. 

“S-sorry, kiddo,” he mumbled embarrassedly, like, of course, an awkward dingus to the recovered, but still red-faced teen before him, “I, um, that-.” He made himself shrug his shoulders. “Didn't mean to push too much.” 

Morty smiled nervously and rubbed his arm, “Don't w-worry about it, man.” He glanced off to the side and chewed his lip for a bit. Then he said, “C-can I, um, t-try d-doing it to you?” 

Rick was stunned. His eyebrow shot up and after a second he mumbled, “Uh, sure, I- w-why not?” 

He didn't know why he felt flat-footed, he guessed just because he didn't expect Morty to want to play with this at all after that sort of reaction. It surprised him. 

And the kid did still look pretty terrified, as Rick laid down to rest against the head of the bed. As he did Morty blurted, “Is- is it ok if- if I t-tie you to the bed?”

What the? Why did he look so scared? Did he think Rick couldn't control himself if he was blinded? “Morty, you know you, you can do whatever and I- I won't lash out or something. I can- can handle it, bro,” Rick said with a smirk. 

“I-I-I know, I j-just- I-I”

“Go for it, M-Morty. S’all good.” Rick cut him off, wanting to end the stammering. Odd little spaz. He moved his wrists up to the corners of the bed and let Morty strap them into the restraints that were a permanent fixture to Rick's bed frame. 

It was when Morty moved without pause down to his feet that Rick felt the first real stir of disquiet. But he couldn't say why. He was beyond accustomed to such things. And it was just Morty, after all, hardly a danger, even if Morty was being a bit strange. 

But he couldn't deny that when Morty leaned over with eyedropper in hand and bright brown orbs boring down into him, Rick felt his heart rate kick up sharply. 

And when the tingling drops hit his eyes and swiftly stole away his vision, leaving Rick in flat, unyielding blackness, he felt a cold shiver threatening to creep up his spine. His response was reflexive and embarrassing, as he tugged briefly on the restraints before reigning himself back in. 

“Y-you ok Rick?”

Morty’s voice was soft, and it bothered Rick how much it bothered him that he couldn't see Morty’s expression, couldn't know if he was solemn or scared or laughing at him. He covered his bases in the usual way, 

“Of course I'm ok, Morty. Unlike some people I'm not a sensitive little f-flower.”

His breath caught slightly at the end when Morty suddenly trailed a hand around his belly button. He would have heard its approach, but Morty had moved under the cover of his mouthing off and caught him off-guard. 

Rick’s eyes narrowed in the dark as he wondered whether that had been intentional. Then he caught himself and smoothed his face. Another effect of not using a mask was that it tended to induce looser control of expression, a fact that he was regretting slightly right now. 

Then the bed shifted as Morty got up and he heard clinking and rustling. Rick made himself lay relaxed as he considered what Morty would be most likely to start with. 

It was only after a small but firm voice said, “o-open your mouth” and he obliged find the cold rigid shape of a metal o-ring gag slipping between his teeth that Rick figured it was likely he had been duped somewhat. At the very least Morty definitely had something of an agenda here, much more than Rick had assumed. 

What a little piece of shit. But Rick just lifted his head and let Morty cinch the strap tightly, snorting a bit ruefully. 

He definitely didn't imagine the grin in Morty's voice when the twerp asked, “All good?”

Rick just nodded his head sharply, staring sightlessly into space, drool already pooling around the harsh bit in his mouth. He could definitely handle some face-fucking, if that was what the little fuck had been angling for the whole time. 

He felt Morty climb up his bound body and sit on his chest, then place his knees on either side of Rick’s neck and sit up slightly. 

Rick could feel the heat from Morty’s skin against his, and where it radiated against his face, could feel just a bit of pressure from the legs pushing against his neck. Tenseness pooled into him as he waited in the dark. 

He heard and felt the kid stir and lean in even closer, felt fingers wind into his hair and tug him forward slightly and knew that if he could see he'd likely see his grandson holding his stiff cock less than an inch from Rick’s pried-open mouth. 

Holy shit what was the fucker waiting for? The anticipation was making Rick want to twitch, making his gut tighten. His mouth was drooling terribly. 

And when the soft heat of cock finally first hit his tongue as he lay there trapped Rick couldn't help the small noise that escaped him, or the jerk he could feel in his dick. He knew his eyes were probably wide and empty, and his face burned at the thought. 

Morty pushed deeper into his paralyzed mouth and he moaned, his tongue moving around the intruder reflexively, laving it. He heard a satisfied little grunt from Morty as he settled his cock fully into Rick's mouth, the tip of it just tickling the back of Rick’s throat. He just let it sit there as Rick's throat spasmed around it, groaning out, “G-god, that's nice Rick,” and Rick felt his own cock harden further at the thought that he was being so coarsely used. 

Then Morty started moving, his dick dragging back and forth inside Rick's mouth, slowly gaining speed. His groin pressed against Rick's nose when he thrust inwards, yanking Rick’s hair painfully to keep him where he wanted him. 

The degradation twisted around inside Rick’s belly until he let himself go with a groan, tugging his hands and feet to enjoy the pull of his restraints, feeling his blind eyes flutter closed as his hips twitched. His tongue curled around Morty’s cock with every thrust as if to encourage it to come back. 

He knew he must be a sight, drool running down his mouth, tied down and face-fucked with his dick waggling the air like an eager slut, but he didn't mind, really. Or he did, but that was all part of the fun. Letting Morty see him be a bit unraveled. 

He was moaning around Morty’s cock now, his jaw aching. He felt the hand let go of his hair as hips continued punishing his face and Rick held himself there, keeping still as the deep, squirming pleasure of letting himself be used pulsed through him. The little bastard had potential, that was for sure. 

But then Morty drew back with a soft sound and Rick wanted to writhe as he felt the heat and weight desert him, leaving him panting alone in the dark. But he didn't, he made his ass keep still on the bed, quickly reigned in his breath. He had far too much ingrained composure for anything else. 

But he still felt somewhat fevered as he wondered what Morty’s game was now. Surely the kid didn't have much left in him, his limited stamina alone precluded much more time, and his limited experience nixed many of the activities they could have progressed to.

Rick heard more rattling and rummaging, then the sound of clasps being undone on a box, then all noise halted for several seconds. He waited, mind pouring through what all he had that were kept in boxes, some of which were alarming options, and he felt a shiver run through him as he wondered what Morty was looking at. His jaw ached fiercely, still held helplessly by the ring. 

Then the bed shifted and he felt Morty lean in and undo the strap behind his head, releasing his mouth as he removed the ring. Rick worked his jaw with a pop and licked his lips, and breathed, waiting expectantly. 

He felt Morty lean into his ear and whisper, “Rick… do you trust me?”

He snorted even as he shivered unwillingly. What a dramatic dunce. Of course not. But it hardly mattered, not when worst come to worst Rick could fix up whatever damage Morty dealt in his ineptitude. He felt suddenly grateful that his collection of blades were kept elsewhere. And he replied with a rasping smirk, “Not on your life, k-kiddo, but I'll play along.”

He heard the soft clicking of Morty’s smile next to his ear, then heard his voice murmur, “Keep still,” and felt a new throb of increasingly delicious dread move through him. What in god’s name was the kid planning? 

Then soft plugs were pushed into his ears, ones that he recognized and had designed and would leave him in total silence, and the last thing he heard before they expanded and cut him off was the sound of his surprised gasp. 

Holy shit. 

He lay there in the silent emptiness he was trapped in, nothing but the feel of the bed under his body and the pull of his restraints and the thump of his own heart keeping him oriented. His chest was going up and down too fast, and he tried with difficulty to slow its pace. What was happening, what was the kid doing? He had been maneuvered neatly into near-total helplessness, blind, deaf and restrained with even the luxury of small movements being denied. It wasn't often Rick let someone have such power, and he hadn't been expecting to relinquish it tonight, and he was struggling to contain himself. 

He needed to, though. If he stayed this unsettled he would undoubtedly flinch when Morty began whatever he was planning and that would be losing the game. 

Despite Rick’s efforts, he did jerk slightly when a hand grabbed his cock and held it firmly upward, and his mouth opened and he knew from the slight vibrations in his throat that he had made some kind of sound. He blushed at the loss of face, his heart hammering in his throat. 

Then he felt something cold and thin and slick and unyielding give a toying slide through the slit of his head, coming to rest with the faintest ominous pressure against his urethra and he froze with a gasp he could feel but not hear. Shock poured into him like water. There was no fucking way. How did Morty even know what those were? 

Well, the kid seemed to think he knew, regardless, and Rick felt with sudden certainty as he lay perfectly still (Morty’s warning having far greater significance now) that he had been utterly tricked, somehow. This was no blushing uninitiate. There was no way someone who had never heard of a Wartenberg wheel would know how to handle these. 

Indignation coursed through him, and for a moment he considered calling it off. But that was never a real option, his pride and the fact that this was Morty precluded that. And besides, he couldn't argue with the message that the tightening in his spine and groin were sending. 

He was just wondering if the kid was waiting for some sign from him when Morty moved, apparently taking his silent stillness as permission. He applied pressure slowly but deliberately and Rick clenched his fists in their restraints as cold, painful itching welled from the tip of his dick. Oh mothering fuck, it had been a very long time since Rick had done this and the searing sensation as Morty slid the thin probe deeper inside his cock had him clenching his teeth and turning his head to the side. 

He had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the feeling of being penetrated so mercilessly. It easily took over his consciousness that was deprived of all other stimuli. He knew he was making some sound, he couldn't imagine what it was. 

Then Morty stopped and Rick’s chest was heaving, and then it seized into tense stillness as Morty began driving the rod up and down, sending mean little bolts of lightning down into his groin. 

Rick knew he moaned, it didn't matter. The effort to keep himself still was already crushing, it really had been too long since he had done this, he was undisciplined. He began panting as his grandson fucked him with the thin metal shaft, feeling the heat tumble out of his mouth as pressure built quickly in his cock. 

There was nothing quite as relentlessly controlling (at least in the limited world of human sex) as being sounded. It tore orgasms out with all the gentleness of a hammer. And Rick felt his rushing up towards him already, the stabbing, icy shock of being pushed open and violated, combining with his tense arousal from earlier, was dragging him swiftly over the edge. 

He flexed his hands and groaned mindlessly, the vibrating evidence of his loss of control stoking him higher. The cruel rod spun inside him and tortured him until with a deep, guttural moan that rattled his ribs, he felt his cock spasm and spend itself around it. 

The burning, searing sensation and the limp relief in its wake left him gasping and twitching as Morty slowly withdrew the sound. Goddamn. Holy fucking monkey balls. That was an unexpected, but quite lovely little session. He was a bit proud of the maniacal fucker. 

Then he felt the cold pressure of another sound against his tender, dripping urethra and he couldn't begin to fathom the face or sound he made as cold shock and dread flooded into him. 

Oh no. Oh Jesus, why did the evil little fuck think he could just go again like that? Maybe decades ago he would have been game but Rick was old and worn-out compared to what he used to be and this was just not on, this might actually make his heart explode. 

His mouth worked and he didn't know if it was making noises or not but it didn't seem to matter, because Morty was planting a hand down on his hip while sliding a new, slightly wider sound into him and Rick’s whole body shook as it plunged down centimeter by centimeter, slicing through the heat still swelling in his dick with its electric chill. 

He felt himself begin to stiffen, felt the need already try to build in him again but he was weakened and spent, and this was not going to be easy. It hurt and it felt so good and so much but there were limits to what he could do. 

Morty did not seem to care as he drew the rod up in short, gut-wrenching jerks before sliding it back down. Rick couldn't take this, he couldn't deal with the hard command to come again pounding uselessly inside him as his so-very-sensitive channel was stimulated and filled.

He writhed as he did his utmost damndest to hold himself together, to keep still, but there was nothing to hold onto in the absolute vacuum he was drowning in, nothing but sensation and pain and the desire for release. He was losing it, was losing himself in the well. 

Then there was suddenly a jarring flood, sounds rushing back in a confusing roar and the first things he could distinguish were ugly, dumb groans, like a hurt animal, lost, senseless noises of need echoing through the dark. 

He realized with faint horror that it was him, he was garbling out those desperate sounds as he tried to keep himself from jerking his hips against Morty’s containing hand and failed. He was still trapped and blinded and utterly consumed with need, broken before it. He tried to reign in his voice but it cracked away from him again as Morty spun the sound while he pulled it up and down and Rick babbled and cried out.

He was so sensitive it hurt, it hurt so bad and he needed it to push him, to spill him over but it was so hard. He thought he might die when Morty withdrew the probe and replaced it with a third, yet thicker one. The slide of it spearing through him made tears well to his eyes and when Morty just gave it a twist and left it there, it's blunt, agonizing presence demanding obeyance and orgasm, he keened loudly and snapped. 

“M-Morty. Mortymortymorty, Mort-Morty,” Rick heard his voice reel insanely and he could feel his eyes roll as he tried to pull himself together enough to speak, “Y-y-y-you can’t just leave- just leave it I c-can't- I need-”

“Tell me w-what you need, Rick,”

The tone made him freeze, and even in his state of near-madness, he knew what Morty was getting at and it made his stomach clench but he was too far gone, 

“I-I-I need to come, I r-really f-f-fucking need to,” 

He felt Morty’s hand slide between his asscheeks, a finger pressing at Rick’s entrance and he could have screamed or cried at the knowledge of the source of his deliverance, so close to taking him to the end. 

“W-who do you need to make you come?” Morty’s voice murmured in the dark he was trapped in, in the great world of feeling and pain and want Rick was bound in and he wanted to curse Morty, wanted to chew his guts out, and he tried to growl but it began to warble into a whine and he clamped his jaw shut. Then he flexed it and clenched his closed eyes and said between his teeth, 

“Y-you, M-Morty, I need you to m-make me cum,” 

“Mmm, I need m-more than that Rick,” Morty hummed as he gave the rod a quick little tug and Rick whooped as the electric shock coursed down into the root of his over-stimulated, tortured and spread-open dick. It was spasming futilely, every time shifting the sound ever-so-slightly inside him. Rick could feel himself chasing that sensation, twitching and trying to fuck his dick around the foreign body invading it but it wasn't enough and he was only driving himself crazier. 

He could barely hear Morty continue, “I think I need you to say please. I need you to beg, R-Rick,” but he did catch it. He heard that soft, satisfied voice and he wanted to hate it, he did hate it, and oh God he needed to come more than he had ever needed anything. 

Morty gave the rod a slow turn as he rubbed at Rick’s anus with the pad of his finger and Rick howled, restraints creaking as his arms and legs strained with the effort of keeping his torso still. 

He was lost, he was lost in the dark and all he knew was a finger circling him and a spear of burning cold eating him alive and he was babbling, 

“Please Morty please please I need to come-” His voice hitched higher and broke when Morty tugged the rod up further and slid it back down again and he continued in a quick panic, “Morty p-please Jesus God let me come I- I need it, I-I-I’m beggin’ you-”

He broke off with a sharp cry as two fingers invaded him roughly, probing inside of him while Rick moaned and shuddered and willed his body to let go, to finally let him go. When they found their target Rick cried out again and they honed in with pulsing pressure. 

Rick wanted to sob at the onslaught of pleasure added to the angry fire inside of him, promising him relief if he could only burn up fast enough.  
“Mortymortymortymorty” he could hear his voice saying in a crazed mutter as every last thread of his consciousness centered with worshipful devotion on the fingers milking his prostate and stuffing his dick. 

There was crushing pressure building behind his balls and his skull and he didn't care which blew first so long as he was delivered from this, but it was the pressure in his groin that finally ruptured and Rick screamed, uncertain if he was alive, if he had ever been alive or if existence had always been a dark shriek of need as he soared, bodiless. 

Then he slammed back into the torrential outpour of sensation as his cock bulged and finally throbbed in release around the rod that impaled it. The quaking, malevolent pleasure that grabbed him and rattled his bones made him actually sob, a broken “Oh, fuucck” that bounced against his ears, mingling with the roaring from his heart. And then the sound shot clear of him as Morty tugged it free in the midst of his breakdown, and another spurt of cum shot out in its wake and Rick whimpered openly. 

He felt the fingers withdraw from him slowly and all he could do was shudder and breathe, drifting internally, untethered. He felt barely aware of anything, the dark cocooning him as he shook. 

Then a slight burning hit his eyes and Rick blinked as the world swam back into view. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes still burning and he rasped, “M-Morty, uh-untie me, Morty,” tugging slightly at his restraints for emphasis as his eyes prickled dangerously and his throat worked. 

Jesus fucking Christ the kid had worked a number on him. Rick couldn't remember the last time he had been this cracked open from sex and he tried to summon the broken remains of his composure as Morty first released his feet, then clambered hurriedly to his hands. But he still felt himself teetering on the edge, felt the rawness linger and threaten to wring real tears out of him so he avoided Morty’s face, just brought his shaking arms back down to his sides and blinked. 

He blinked harder when Morty spooned up next to him, laying a warm arm across his chest and settling his head to rest on it. Rick’s aching arm curled reflexively around his grandson's back, and he laid there and focused on his breathing, his tremors subsiding as his eyes gradually slid shut, back into the now-comforting dark. He pulled himself out of it with effort, a thought blearily occurring to him as he mumbled,

“H-hey kid… you need to get off?”

He didn't know why he was asking. He was a useless mess, and it was all the little shit’s fault anyway that he was in no state to do anything. 

“Oh I, I came ages ago,” Morty replied easily from his resting place at Rick's side. “Are you k-kidding? God, Rick, y-you were waaaay too hot for that not to happen. I’m j-just a teen, after all,” he finished, and Rick could hear the smirk bleed through. 

The fucking audacity, after that whole fake-innocent bait and switch. Rick would be angry at him later though. His limbs were leaded, and Morty’s hair smelled good, and the kid was murmuring nonsense into his skin, things like “amazing” and “ever” and “beautiful” and Rick gave a deep sigh that drained what energy he had left out of him, and relievedly let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! This one was a bit much to chew through, I know.
> 
> I had to read so much literotica as research for this. *shudder


	11. Day 10 (16): Waxplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delay. I rewrote this 3 times, for no apparent reason, and then was like fuck it, here goes.
> 
> I know it's practically December, but I WILL finish this bitch.

“I've- I've tried to warn you before, Morty, but you never listened.”

Rick leaned in, grinning like a demon, and said, “Y-you're playing with fire, kid.”

He held his weapon aloft with a flourish- an unassuming, large white taper candle. 

“And you're gonna get burned.” 

Morty would have rolled his eyes at his grandfather's typical theatrics, but given that he was currently naked, tied firmly spread-eagle on the bed, and that Rick’s grin had only grown alarmingly toothier after he finished snickering at his own corny jokes, Morty wasn't feeling quite secure enough to be cocky. 

He swallowed hard and tried his best to look unintimidated. He was the one who had blushingly admitted that he was curious about exploring some more… adventurous sex play. It really was absurd to feel embarrassed at all. He was already happily getting fucked by his grandfather, so admitting he had an interest in a bit of kink should be a well-duh sort of thing, honestly. 

But well, Rick always made him feel a bit uneasy, in general. And the light that went on in his grandfather's eyes when Morty said he might want to try out a little bit of pain (“l-like, a little bit. S-seriously, Rick, just a- a little, okay?”) was very anxiety-producing. 

Rick’s shit-eating assurances (“Oh, don't even trip, dawg. Don't even-- I- I'm gonna take reeeeal good care of ya, Morty”) were even more unnerving. And the downright predatory look he was giving Morty right now was the most triggering thing of all. 

He hadn't known what on earth Rick was planning, hadn't dared asked. He just climbed onto the bed and allowed himself to be tied down with his heart in his throat. 

And then Rick had produced this giant candle out of nowhere and started making menacing jokes about fire and all Morty could think was that maybe Rick had decided to burn him alive. 

Which would really be overshooting the mark Morty was going for. 

“Sure you don't want a blindfold for this? It'll make it- it’ll really intensify the sensation for ya, Morty. M-make your little mind really spin.” 

Morty shook his head. He wasn't planning on letting that candle out of his sight. Particularly if it was to be the surprisingly banal tool for his untimely, flame-filled execution. 

Rick shrugged. “Your loss.” He pulled out a lighter and lit the candle, then scooted up to kneel in between Morty’s spread legs. His eyes met Morty’s and Morty twitched and glanced between them and the candle, uncertain which dancing light was the more dangerous one. “You ready kid?” 

His voice was growling and truly diabolical sounding and Morty gasped, “Um, f-f-for what, e-exactly, Rick?” his gaze finally deciding to stay on the candle, watching its little flame bob cheerfully. 

The flame fluttered more energetically as Rick leaned over and held the candle a foot above his bare stomach. Morty's mouth went dry. 

“To get set on fire, Morty. Duh.”

“W-what?!” Morty choked, eyes bulging as they flew to his grandfather's face. Rick’s evil expression cracked as he began laughing at Morty’s obvious terror. “J-Jesus fucking Christ, Morty, don't, don't be an idiot,” he chuckled. “Just sit back, and trust your ol’ G-grandpa Rick.”

He patted Morty’s thigh reassuringly, then bent down with a grin to nuzzle Morty’s skin, kissing and nipping around his belly button. 

Morty shivered and twisted slightly in his restraints, torn between tickling pleasure and ever-heightening anxiety as Rick's arm took the candle higher and higher. Then Rick drove his tongue into Morty’s belly button and Morty squealed, and in his moment of distraction the candle tipped and a dollop of hot wax suddenly impacted on Morty’s stomach. 

“Aah!” 

He yelped in shock and pain, still taken by surprise despite all the build up as the harsh heat burst suddenly on his skin. His eyes went to the candle, back to floating innocuously above him, then to the white drop of wax on his stomach, then to Rick’s face, which looked to be drinking in his reaction with amusement. 

He realized with surprise that the wax already didn't really hurt anymore, not too much anyway, and had turned into a hard nub that adhered with an odd sensation when he wriggled. He felt his anxiety lower slightly, his body becoming less rigid. If this was the kind of pain Rick was planning on putting him through then it really wasn't so bad. 

The second drop caught him less by surprise, and he gasped instead of yelled when it landed near his belly button. This time he could distinctly feel a pulse in his groin as the burn bloomed and faded, and he shivered in his restraints. 

Then Rick lowered the candle and let another drop fall, this time a glancing blow that trailed off the side of his ribs and made Morty suck in a breath. That had been a bit more painful, but the burn, though fiercer, still faded quickly enough into a stinging tingle that had his dick throbbing in approval. He glanced down and saw that he was fully hard. 

“Doin’ good, kiddo,” Rick growled, a pleased smirk on his face, and Morty felt a thrill of pleasure at the praise, which he was always such a sucker for. 

Then.the next drop fell directly on his right nipple, and he couldn't contain the yell or the convulsive jerk of his body, his torso bucking as the intense sting radiated outwards from the tiny spot. Before he could catch his breath Rick tilted the candle again and hot wax fell onto his other nipple. Morty gasped in pain, chest heaving as the wax hardened. He could feel his nipples tighten under their white casing. 

His gasp turned into a throaty moan when Rick’s mouth descended and tongued each one, the flesh tormentingly hypersensitive as he flicked and worried at the edge between wax and skin. His dick was beginning to ache, the conflicting sensation of pain and pleasure sending confused but powerful messages of arousal to it.

“Ohhh, J-Jesus,” Morty groaned, his eyes rolling slightly. Rick snickered into his skin, the little puffs of breath against his smarting areola sending yet another shiver down Morty’s spine. 

He let another few dollops fall onto Morty’s stomach as the boy squirmed and panted and gasped, watching his torso be painted with drops and trails of white wax, the scorching heat bursting like fireworks each time as need percolated into his cock.

“R-ready to kick it up a notch?”

Morty opened his eyes and nodded, already lost enough in sensation that he hadn't realized he had closed them, the lingering pains scattered on his torso both distracting and anchoring. He held his breath as Rick scooted backwards, his eyes widening when he saw where the next droplets would fall. 

The burning splash of the first one against his inner thigh had him swearing wildly, torn between pain at the searing burn, markedly more intense on such a sensitive area, fear at the knowledge of where the drops of wax were likely heading towards if they continued, and undeniable arousal. He keened, voice cracking as Rick dribbled a fiery line down the other thigh, made helpless by the restraints and by his own need to continue, to bear out the pain, to receive still more. 

He felt overwhelmed, astonished at the intensity of the sensations and his response to them. He had no idea what in his brain made the burns feel so good, it was like his cock wasn't part of him, drooling and throbbing for more even as his mind fretted at the pain and told him it should stop. 

The needs of his dick won out, and he panted, shaking in his restraints as sweat broke out on his forehead and he braced himself to continue. Rick paused as he caught his breath, analyzing his reactions and waiting with that unshakable confidence that Morty was so grateful for in that moment. Rick knew him better than anyone, and had more than enough knowledge and experience to take Morty where he needed to go and Morty had never loved him as much as he did right now, which was absurd and just a sign of how frazzled his mind was becoming, but whatever. 

His grandfather spilled more drops, white spatters inching ever closer to his groin as Morty whimpered and writhed, tears springing to his eyes out of frustration and pain. He thought he might be going crazy. 

And then Rick, his face darkly alight, rose the candle up high and spilled hot wax directly on the juncture where the base of his dick met his balls. Morty screamed, the sound breaking into sobs. It hurt so much it almost made him sick, the greater height doing little, it felt, to lessen the harsh inescapable burn. He felt his breath hitch with sobs as he reeled, wondering if he should use his safe word, he wasn't sure he could see this through. It hurt so sharply, like he had been stung by the meanest wasp in the most sensitive area, and could he really handle more? At the same time, his dick was still hard, harder than ever, the need to come was building insistently inside him, spurred on by nothing more than the torture he had agreed to and Morty shook his head mindlessly, unable to decide what he should do, and therefore having to trust that Rick knew, instead. 

The cooling lick of his grandfather's tongue as it glided from base to tip had him shuddering and giving breathy, broken gasps. He was close, so very close, and the pain and need was chipping away at his sanity, he could feel it. 

“R-Rick, I- I need- I- I- I-” He couldn't even talk, he didn't even know what he needed, he needed everything, he was drowning in it. 

“I know, Morty. I know,” Rick murmured soothingly, pressing kisses around his groin while his cock twitched and leaked and screamed for attention, for deliverance. “Y-you're doing soo good, so good, kiddo.” 

Morty clung to his words, the only tether he had left. He could barely see straight, even without a blindfold, so subsumed by sensation he would hardly remember his own name if Rick hadn't just said it.

Rick’s tongue descended again to tease at the head of his dick, winding him closer and closer to the edge and Morty moaned gratefully, wondering if this was the end, if Rick would bring him off with his mouth and he’d finally be free, the torment he loved and hated would finally end. But as he felt himself draw right up to the brink, balls tightening in anticipation, Rick drew away and Morty sobbed again, thrashing mindlessly, knowing he would surely die if he couldn't find release soon. 

And then a bloom of pure, burning agony landed directly on the head of his cock. When the hot wax splashed and ran and bit into his flesh, a line of fire tore right into his very soul, it seemed, igniting him as he screamed so loudly his throat tore, and impossibly, he felt his orgasm burst out of him like a freight train. His whole body pulsed in time with his dick and he cried and cried and shook, unseeing, unfeeling of anything besides the terrible pleasurable release. His dick pulsed for what felt like ages, his cum both hot and cool against the abused, tender skin. 

He hyperventilated raggedly, the air on his scorched throat mirroring the scorched feeling in his groin. His body was trembling uncontrollably in the wake of it all, and he felt near-fainting. He dimly registered Rick’s groans of arousal at the sight of him, still aware enough to feel faintly proud of incurring such a reaction from the man despite the fact that his brain wasn't even close to operating properly. 

“Ohhh, Morty, y-you're beautiful, that- that was the most beautiful goddamn thing I've ever seen, you did so well, s-so fucking good, y-you're amazing, kiddo.”

He let Rick’s babbles fill him up, draw him back into consciousness as the man undid the restraints and quickly gathered him into his arms, cradling him, raining soft kisses on his sweat-soaked hair. Morty smiled dazedly and let himself be held, covered in wax, full of pains and aches and gratefulness and, above all, love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm. I just don't know about this one.


	12. Day 11: Somnophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ain't over till it's over

This was not the first time something like this had happened. For an old man, Rick had a grossly active sex drive. And drinking so much probably fucked with his sleep cycles. And he and Morty had crashed in the same bed (or even less comfortable and more cramped quarters, like the ship, or a cave, or an alien prison cell) many, many times. Such unluxurious accommodations were an unavoidable reality of adventuring. And the law of probability meant that given how often they slept next to one another, there were inevitably going to be a few… awkward nighttime occasions. 

Occasions like waking up to the sound of grunting, or the wobble of the mattress, and turning over in sleepy confusion to see Rick on his belly, grinding away into the sheets, or flat on his back with a limp hand pressing into his blindly thrusting groin. Totally asleep, and still a gross old horndog son of a bitch.

Once Morty had actually seen Rick manage to pull his pants down a bit, and had caught a glimpse of dark, reddened flesh quickly covered by a pale hand, had heard a low, dumb sound crawl out of his sleeping grandfather's mouth, and Morty’s breath had stuttered in his throat in a complete shutdown panic before his brain started working again and he shrieked his disapproval and mortification and bopped Rick in the head with a pillow to make him stop. That time he had hit Rick with enough force to wake him up entirely, and then, of course, Morty had to listen to cranky grumbling about “little assholes disturbing an old man's well-deserved rest” for the next several hours. What a dick. 

So generally it was easier to ignore it. It usually quickly stopped on its own, anyway, Rick naturally falling back into a deeper, less disruptive sleep. But a hit or a shove or a loud-enough noise always took care of things when they started to stray over the line into too-weird territory, like when Rick was too loud, too energetic, or when his friction-seeking body found Morty before it found its hand or the mattress.

It wasn't anything personal, as odd as that sounded, waking up to his grandfather pressing his boner into the small of Morty's back, or grinding it against his leg. It was just gross, annoying old Rick being an ass even in his sleep, and Morty would just elbow or kick him firmly away and go back to bed. And Morty had himself woken up a time or two to find his own wood poking insistently at Rick's back before flinching away, so he figured he could hardly point fingers, in the grand scheme of things. 

It wasn't a comfortable or at all talked-about thing, but it wasn't some terrible trauma, either. It didn't feel particularly pervy, any more than being a few yards away while Rick took a shit behind a tree felt pervy. He figured both were about equivalent in bothersomeness, inappropriateness, and general grossness. Mostly he just didn't think about it at all. 

 

But one night Morty awoke to the feel of Rick spooning into him, his erection pressing against his backside, and as he sleepily took in the situation, he twitched his arm to gather up steam for the typical shoving away motion. Then his still mostly-unconscious mind registered that he was still exhausted and achy, and that actually, all that heat and pressure against his body, even right up against his sacrum was… well, it felt ok. Warm and kind of nice. He didn't even care, he decided, he would just go back to sleep. 

Lassitude flowed back into his body as he unconsciously shifted backwards slightly. He would have fallen back asleep, boners and all, but at that moment Rick's hips twitched forward, and the resultant tingle of heat that the motion sent into his groin made a little grunting sound escape through his nose and pulled him back away from unconsciousness. 

Slightly more awake, and with achy balls now quickly translating into a semi-aroused cock, Morty stumbled into a sleep-deprived dilemma. Having an unsatisfied boner would make going back to sleep take ages. And Morty couldn't afford that, he was in the middle of one of Rick's week-long ludicrous schemes. He had already almost died twice just during the info-gathering stage, and tomorrow he had to get up and infiltrate a totalitarian cyborg fortress, for god's sake. He wasn't getting his ass lasered off because his dick cost him precious sleep. 

With that in mind, he snuck his hand under his pants and took his cock in hand. A quick jerk-off, stealthy and quiet. He could manage it- he was practically an expert at furtive masturbation. 

But, of course, this situation was very different for one important reason. It wasn't (to his shame) the fact that he was masturbating in close proximity to his unconscious or unaware grandfather. Long journeys in space, teenage hormones, and all. 

It was, and he shivered with a hitch in his stomach as he felt the warm, firm reality of it shift again against him, the fact that Rick's erection was still there, blunt and perversely innocent.

And disturbingly arousing. 

Here's the thing: jerking off with the tiny, wrist-tiring motions required in such close, furtive scenarios was not an easy task. Stimulation was limited, and well, this was a lot of extra stimulation. And time was of the essence. 

So he realized with no small amount of shame that he wasn't going to move away, he wasn't going to end this facet of the scenario, and he was actually going to sink to this new low of masturbatory behaviour. Morty was going to jerk-off with the feel of Rick against him, worse, too the feel of Rick against him. He felt lower than scum, even as his hand began moving.

But the thing about Morty was, well, sometimes shame kinda did it for him. So really, he was trapped in a loop of arousal here. It was beyond his control. And sure enough, his hand began moving faster as more insistent pressure built inside him. He was careful not to let his own body twitch or jerk, careful to keep his movements short and entirely contained in his wrist. 

He tugged at himself, and chewed at his lip, and curled his toes. The inability to express his arousal just added to it, and it was getting increasingly difficult to keep still, but he had to. He was just doing this while Rick was there, he wasn't actually going to engage him in any way. That made it more ok. 

But more and more he felt the urge to press back into the presence behind him. And he must have, despite his efforts, been moving enough to spurn Rick on, because suddenly Rick jerked against him harder than he had so far, no, it was more of a thrust, honestly, and it felt awesome and goddamnit if Morty didn't thrust back against him, just for a second. He was instantly dismayed at how much of a creep he was being. 

Oh Jesus, that was good, though. His eyelids fluttered, and he felt his balls tighten briefly as his hand clenched around his cock. He felt sweat prickle on his forehead. Fuck, he was such a filthy, terrible person, was he really going to do this?

When Rick thrust again, and then again, apparently inspired into more movement by Morty's action, he whimpered behind pressed lips at the throbs rushing through him and pushed his ass back reflexively, and got his answer. Yes, he was enough of a terrible deviant to do this. Fuck it. 

Maybe it was the foreignness, or the naughtiness, or the power trip. It didn't matter why it felt amazing, it just did. He let himself meet every one of his grandfather's movements, just a little, and it felt so good that he found himself trying to quicken the pace. Soon he was practically humping backwards into Rick as much as he would dare, grinding his ass against him far more consistently than Rick’s sporadic, unconscious jerks. 

He sped up his wrist until the joint was yelling at him for it and stuffed his free hand into his mouth. He was getting very close, he was almost there. He arched his back to meet another of Rick’s jerks and it slipped low enough to drag up the length of his crack and that was it, that was all he needed. 

He came with a harsh hip jerk and a ragged gasp that he couldn't prevent and was instantly petrified by. He bit hard on his knuckles as come pulsed onto his fingers, trying desperately to control the tremors in his body as he rode his orgasm. He froze entirely as soon as he was able to, and listened with apprehension. 

The room was still. Rick's body was unmoving, though still hard against him. Morty waited for a tense minute, then let out a silent breath of relief. He had gotten away with it. Now all he had to do was push Rick off of him and he could go back to-

He heard a sound, a sound he would recognize anywhere, in any situation. 

It was Rick, snickering at him. 

Morty froze with absolute horror. Oh. My. Fucking. God. No, he couldn't be awake. Maybe he wasn't awake, maybe he was laughing in his sleep. 

“Fucking wow, Morty,”

The voice was gravelly and sardonic and destroyed his last hope. He didn't know what to do. This was beyond terrible. What could he possibly say? And he was too in shock to even begin to ponder the equally awful question of how long Rick had been awake. 

“Sorry, I just woke up and uh, needed to take care of my, uh, you know,” he said shakily. Maybe Rick didn't know what all Morty was doing, maybe he just thought he caught him jerking off. It was all Morty could try for in this nightmarish scenario. 

“So you decided to take care of your ‘you know’ with my ‘you know’”. 

Oh god. Rick's tone was flat and merciless, and Morty didn't know what else to say at this point other than the gross truth. 

“Y-yes... Sorry, I- I wasn't thinking.” 

The excuse was meaningless, nonsensical. He felt worse than scum now, he felt kinda like a rapist. He wondered what Rick was going to do, and realized uncomfortably that Rick was still pressed against him, even now, still hard down there. His heart pounded in his chest. 

“Yeah, no surprise there, but what about my needs, Morty? Having an ass ground into you over and over isn't- isn't really conducive to a good night's rest, now, is it? Kinda shitty of you. You- you got a solution for that, too?” Rick muttered the words in a dark tone, mouth way too close to his ear, practically brushing against it. 

Morty stopped functioning, body and brain shutting down entirely until he wondered if he was going to faint. After several infinite seconds he managed a feeble, stuttering “I- I-” in response. He felt movement against him and tensed further, if that was even possible, but it was just Rick rolling over away from him. He heard the old man give out a derisive snort. 

“Jesus Christ. Lucky for you, Morty, I'm a grown-up, and a stiffy ranks lower than shut-eye. Go the fuck to sleep, you rapey little fuck.” 

And at that he started up buzzsaw snores, as if on command. 

But Morty didn't go to sleep. He couldn't now, shock and adrenaline having him more alert than ever. He was definitely getting his ass blown off by a rogue cyborg tomorrow, he realized with resignation. 

Far more worrisome, however, was the realization that he had absolutely no idea what he had been about to say, in response to Rick’s inappropriate little jibe. Not one single clue.


	13. Day 14: 21 Double Penetration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be DOUBLE double penetration! And jealousy! And portal sex! I'm excited, guys. I churned this baby out in an afternoon. Fuck proofreading what is proofreading. 
> 
> (Lol, let me know about any annoying errors)
> 
> Portal sex dedicated to the lovely ghostygoogirl. If I wasn't such a Neanderthal I'd know how to link her.

It was embarrassing how much the idea irked Rick. He didn't expect this of himself, didn't expect the throb of jealousy and possession that bit deep into his bones at the thought of it. He didn't own Morty. He wasn't some wilting romantic flower. The kid had every right to ask this of him. Rick had encouraged it, even, the fundamental depravity of their relationship opening the door to all sorts of sexual exploration. It was a natural, expected consequence. 

He still hated it. 

He realized Morty was still waiting for an answer, he had been sitting silent for way longer than was appropriate. 

“Sure, kiddo, I'll- I'll make a few calls. See what I can dig up.”

It was said in as blasé a voice as he could manage. Morty didn't seem to notice, he just nodded and said, “Cool, uh, I guess let me know when- when things are all set up.” A typically brainless response. Rick nodded back at him absently, and took his leave as swiftly as he could without seeming suspicious. 

It didn't take long to find someone to do the deed. As a rule, Ricks were filthy, perverted creatures. The real challenge was finding one he could muster up a modicum of, well, not _trust_ in, but close enough for the deed. He finally decided on a unremarkable b-class, one that owed him a few favors, and had a healthy amount of fear and respect for “The Rogue”. Easily killable, if the situation called for. H-578b. He would do. 

He told the Rick to meet them at a cosmic motel that was a popular choice for seedy liaisons. He hoped Morty wouldn't bitch about the location- he sure as shit wasn't doing this in their house, in Rick’s - _their, no, not their_ \- bed. 

 

Morty was his usual blend of nerves, excitement, and irritating stupidity on the ride over. Rick drank excessively, trying to keep abreast of the crawling in his gut that made him want to be snappish and crueler than usual. They arrived and found their room, and spent an awkward thirteen minutes waiting for the other Rick to show. 

Towards the end of their time alone together, Morty stopped pretending to look at his phone and looked at Rick instead. Rick pretended to not notice his gaze, but that was ruined when Morty got up and straddled his legs, then leaned forward to kiss him firmly on the lips. 

“You know, Rick, we don't have to do this if you don't want to,” he murmured, pulling away slightly. His hands were cool on Rick’s neck. “It's not- I- I don't want to h- I mean, that's not what this is about.” He kept his eyes carefully downwards.

Rick swallowed down the throb of shame-fueled anger. God, was wrong with him? When had he become such a fucking stick in the mud? And such an obvious one that even Morty could pick up on it. He shook his head and smirked. 

“Fuck, kid, I’m fine. You- you think _this_ is too much for me? Jesus, you have no idea, one time I was- I was screwing this nasty-ass Glorgarxian and her spawnleeb came busting in, and it’s defini-”

Morty interrupted his useless babble with another kiss, which was just as well. 

Then there was a knock at the door. Rick pulled on his game face, stood, and went to answer it. He let in H-578b with a curt but casual nod, all business, and the Rick followed behind him with a grin, cracking his knuckles. 

“Alright then, how's this gonna roll out? Or are we- euuurp- are we gonna just improvise?” 

He looked supremely unconcerned by the answer, whatever it may be. Which was normal. Rick did his best to reign in his instant burning hatred, because this was happening and he needed to get his fucking shit together. He didn't know the plan, he hadn't asked Morty, why hadn't he asked Morty? 

Morty responded. 

“I- I figured we would, I mean, Rick and I,” he gestured at Rick and himself, “Would start out, then you could just, uh, kinda come in when I ask for it? And, uh, h- _how_ I ask for it,” he added with a deep blush but a surprisingly firm tone, glancing at Rick before leveling a look at H-578b.

__

Stuttering and only half-coherent, it was still way more together than anything Rick would have managed. Put in his place by a sixteen-year-old. That was just great. He caught the smirking look the other Rick gave him, but fuck it, while he didn't exactly _relish_ the idea of having a reputation for being a Morty-whipped bitch, he honestly didn't give much of a shit either way. 

__

Plus, he still had six different ways to kill this guy stashed in the room, not counting his cybernetic-enhanced body. 

__

They all stripped off their clothes and it was all Rick could do to not step out and grab more of his emergency booze stash from the ship. He felt sober as the fucking grave, where the hell did his buzz go? There was nothing for it, though, and everything got better when a naked Morty crawled in his lap and pushed him insistently backwards on the bed, pale hands trailing down his body to start pulling gently, confidently at Rick’s mild erection. 

__

Rick sighed through his nose and let his head fall back against the headboard. He looked at Morty’s face, already flushed and glassy-eyed like the perfect little slut he was and felt a familiar smirk tug at the side of his mouth. Then he glanced over Morty’s shoulder and saw the other Rick sitting in the tatty hotel armchair, leering and tugging at his cock. His smirk froze in place for a moment before he tore his eyes away and back to Morty. 

__

Morty was currently shimmying down to wrap those pink, full lips around his cock. He looked fucking gorgeous, and the hungry whine he let out as Rick slipped down his throat was more gorgeous still. He couldn't even blame H-fuckface for the low grunt he heard from his direction: his Morty was fucking exceptional, any Rick-tard could see that. 

__

Rick groaned, his dick throbbing at the wet slide and suction as Morty began blowing him in earnest. He deliberately gazed at the other Rick this time, alone in his chair with his hand working his dick. It was a smug look of I-have-it-and-you-want-it, simple and childish and at the moment, very very satisfying. When Morty squeezed his balls in time with a particularly nimble tongue-flick, the moan Rick let out was a little more heartfelt than it necessarily needed to be, and he grinned internally at the huff he heard from the other Rick. 

__

Finally Morty pulled back with a wet pop and smiled cheekily at him before turning around and getting on all fours, unabashedly presenting his round ass to Rick with a lewd, moaning, “G-Grandpa Rick, please, I- ahhhh… I need you to fuck me. I need it so b-bad.”

__

Rick bit the inside of his cheek hard to keep from smiling at the little brat’s theatrics. Morty knew exactly what was up. He deliberately ignored the fidgeting from H-whatever’s corner, and sat up, running a hand down Morty’s deliciously arched spine. He trailed his fingers down and paused at his entrance, surprised to find him already wet and open and ready. Morty turned his head around to grin at him impishly, and Rick rewarded his shameless little slut by pushing two of his fingers in with a twist, drinking in the loud gasp Morty let out. 

__

He didn't play long. Morty was already open enough and besides, Rick knew the kid enjoyed a bit of a burning stretch, so in short order he was sliding his cock home, Morty groaning lowly as he began a rhythm of even, long thrusts, just how he liked it. 

__

At the beginning Rick shot H-578b another smirk, one last fuck-you, but a dozen thrusts in he had forgotten about him entirely, pleasantly lost in Morty’s tight heat. Then he heard Morty speak up and address the other Rick, voice uneven between his panting as Rick refused to let up. 

__

“H-hey, ahh, you wanna get over here, hah, and I'll- I'll suck your cock.”

__

Rick almost faltered at the words, which was ridiculous, this was what they were here for, it was going to happen at some point. He kept resolutely pounding into Morty as the other Rick approached, deciding to ignore the muttered “Fuckin’ finally” he heard. His grip tightened minutely on Morty’s hips as H-578b climbed onto the bed, kneeling in front of Morty’s head. 

__

It really didn't make any sense, he reflected distantly, why this bothered him so much still. He was a narcissist down to the bone. Watching himself fucking Morty through a mirror was one of his favorite pastimes. Why was this any different? It wasn't. 

__

He shouldn't watch if it was going to piss him off. But he couldn't help it, he stared transfixed as the other Rick’s cock approached his Morty’s mouth. The groan the stupid asshat let out as Morty’s perfect lips wrapped around him was like a kick in the gut. 

__

It wasn't the same as a mirror, it was nothing like a fucking mirror, and the rage building in Rick’s gut was blind, dumb, and unignorable. He watched wrinkly scarred hands that _weren't his_ wind into Morty’s hair and tug the brown curls roughly, and that was it. 

__

Rick stopped thrusting, reached his left hand behind him, whipped out the gun he had stashed behind the headboard, and shot H-578b neatly through the forehead. 

__

To his credit, Morty only let out a small shriek as the Rick flopped over dead on the bed and slid off onto the floor with a thump. Then he pulled away with a sigh and dislodged Rick, sitting up to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

__

“What?” Rick said unconcernedly, examining his gun with a critical eye. “You hate having your hair pulled.”

__

Morty, the little fucker, just laughed. 

__

 

__

“You know, Rick, that was p-pretty naughty of you,” he said coyly during their ride home, having left the Rick corpse abandoned on the motel room floor. “How you gonna make it up to me?”

__

Rick rolled his eyes. “I'm sure I'll think of something, Morty.” 

__

Morty chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Do you… d’you think you could rig something up”, he glanced at Rick’s lab coat, “Like, uh, with the gun, maybe? S-since, you know, you're so reluctant to share?” He said the last staring right at Rick with a wide, smug grin, obviously pleased by all that had happened. 

__

But the bloodthirsty little bitch was a genius, albeit in his own occasional, extremely limited, savant, ok-still-generally-pretty-fucking-stupid way. Yes. The portal gun. That was _perfect_. 

__

 

__

It took nine seconds of calibrating the gun and about ten minutes of dicking around with the placement to set it up, easy as pie. After a double check on his pi-beam coordinator settings to make sure the damn thing wouldn't collapse halfway through and slice him in half, Rick took of his clothes, fired the portal gun at his bedroom wall, and sat down backwards in the chair placed beneath the circle against the wall. 

__

He glanced back at the portal circle behind him, stuck his head through the one in the wall, and immediately ignored the decidedly odd sight of his own wrinkly ass hanging off the seat of the chair in front of him. It was a little different, but Morty was easy to please, bless that tiny brain of his, and this would positively blow the twerp’s mind. 

__

Sure enough, when Morty was called in he ground to a halt in the doorway, blinking with that look of horror and arousal Rick loved so much. Mouth opening and closing, he closed the door behind him dazedly, then turned wide eyes back towards Rick and took a step forward, taking in the sight of his grandfather's head-and-armless body straddling a chair, and said head resting on crossed arms, floating about a foot and a half behind it. 

__

“Ah, um... h-hi there,” Morty said like an idiot. Rick allowed it. 

__

Morty blinked a couple more times, shook his head, and approached him, a slow, sheepish smile beginning to spread across his face as he reached hesitantly for the naked ass to his left, giving it a little squeeze. He turned to look at Rick’s face and murmured, “Is- is this for me, Rick?,” his smile curling up into something delighted and smug. 

__

It was another good look on Morty, Rick would admit, if only to himself. He didn't deign to respond, and Morty didn't need one anyway. He could see the gears in the kid’s mind spin as it pieced together what was about to go down, the moment when his eyes lit up and a little gasp escaped him. “Oh, god,” he moaned quietly as he slid a finger down to Rick’s asshole, finding him as prepared as Morty had been. Rick shivered slightly, the sensation odder with the visual disconnect. Morty met his eyes with a wicked smirk and he fought down the slight urge to be embarrassed. 

__

Morty tore off his clothes with laughable eagerness and stepped between Rick, blocking his view of what was happening to the rest of him and presenting him instead with the view of Morty’s delectable ass. He let himself groan at the feel of fingers probing into him, stretching him open with a couple of careless scissoring thrusts before sliding back out and being replaced with the head of Morty’s cock pressing insistently inside him. 

__

The kid buried himself to the hilt and immediately began thrusting quickly, all graceless determination. Rick let out an appreciative hum and allowed him to go to town. Morty wasn't the only one who liked it a bit rough at the start. And the close-up view of the twerp’s muscles clenching and rippling as he pounded into him was hot as hell, to be blunt. 

__

But Rick had bigger plans in mind, and he grabbed Morty’s hips, stilling them, then shifted somewhat awkwardly and leaned forward, holding Morty in place as he spread his cheeks with his thumbs, stuck his head forward, and licked a line up his crack. He heard Morty’s keyed-up “ohhh,” felt his body shudder between his hands, and swore he could feel his cock twitch inside him. 

__

It was a delightful combination of sensations, and Rick dove into his chosen task, circling his tongue teasingly around Morty’s hole as the kid shivered and cursed and attempted to move with uneven little rocks back and forth, hindered by Rick’s hands. He tormented him with licks and sucks and ever-more-aggressive pushes with his tongue while holding him still, clenching his ass every so often just to hear the needy slut cry out. 

__

Finally, he relented and began moving Morty, driving him in short, even motions forwards into Rick's ass and backwards onto his tongue. It was all under Rick’s controlling hands, and it made Morty lose his fucking mind. He keened, his hands clenching painfully into the flesh of Rick’s torso in an effort to keep himself upright, his cock hot and hard against Rick’s insides. Rick groaned encouragingly and sped up the pace of the rocking motions as Morty’s legs began to shake. 

__

“F-fuck, Rick, _please_ …,” he moaned helplessly as he was thrusted to and fro, and Rick noted with distant satisfaction that _that_ was what genuine needy dirty talk sounded like from Morty, before taking his thumb and pressing firmly on his perineum, sucking on his rim as Morty garbled out an ugly, high-pitched cross between a choke and a squeal. 

__

It rang like bell in Rick’s ears as he guided the kid through the convulsions of his orgasm, supporting his weight when his legs tried to buckle. Finally he collapsed, resting his forehead against Rick’s back, panting and flushed from head to toe. 

__

After a few moments Rick leaned back, twisting his head to crack his aching neck while Morty slid from him. He pushed himself out of the chair, staggering slightly with disorientation as he pulled his head out of the portal and his frame of reference snapped back to normalcy. He stretched and felt his spine pop satisfyingly, then turned and shot the still-dazed Morty a smug grin. 

__

“Well?” he said expectantly. 

__

“Shit, Rick, I- Jesus…,” Morty replied weakly shaking his head, then dropped to his knees. 

__

The breathless but earnest blowjob that followed wasn't really necessary, Rick mused as he looked down at that flushed, doe-eyed face taking his cock like a pro. He was tired and achy and didn't really care one way or another if he came. 

__

But if it was what Morty wanted, who was he to say no?

__

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Hopefully it was all decent enough. Reviews and comments always welcome!


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